LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO       . 


1 


BY  THE  ATUHOR  OF 

THE 


CHRONICLES  OF  THE  SCHONBERG-COTTA  FAMILY. 

THE  EARLY  DAWN. 

DIARY  OF  KITTY  TREVYLYAN. 

WINIFRED  BERTRAM. 

THE  DRAYTONS  AND  THE  DAVENANTS. 

ON   BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA. 

THE  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

WATCHWORDS  FOR  THE  WARFARE  OF  LIFE. 
MARY,  THE  HANDMAID  OF  THE  LORD. 
THE  SONG  WITHOUT  WORDS. 
POEMS. 


THE   VICTORY 


OF 


THE  VANQUISHED 


A    STORY    OF    THE 


FIRST   CENTURY. 


EY    THE    AUTHOR    OF    THE 

"Chronicles  of  the  Sehonberg-Cotta  Family." 
Etc.,  Etc. 


NEW    YORK: 

DODD  &  MEAD,  762  BROADWAY, 

1871. 


AUTHOR'S    EDITION. 


"  The  Author  of  the  '  Schonberg  Cotta-Family 
wishes  it  to  be  generally  known  among  the  read- 
ers of  her  books  in  America,  that  the  American 
Editions  issued  by  Messrs.  DODD  &  MEAD, 
of  New  York,  alone  have  the  Author 's  sanction." 


THE 

VICTORY    OF    THE  VANQUISHED, 


CHAPTER   I. 

T  was  the  eve  of  the  Triumph  of 
Germanicus.  The  Roman  camp  on 
the  hills  above  the  Campagna  was 
hushed  in  sleep.  A  tall  fair  woman 
— one  of  the  German  captives  who  were  to 
grace  the  triumph — had  crept  to  the  door  of 
one  of  the  tents,  and  was  gazing  with  eyes 
dreamily  fixed  on  the  long  reach  of  Roman 
Road  which  stretched  before  her  into  the 
darkness. 

To  her,  as  to  us,  that  road  was  a  great  sym- 
bol. It  was  no  mere  pliant  highway  of  com- 
merce, in  gracious  windings  accommodating 
itself  to  the  needs  of  men  and  the  difficulties 
of  nature.  Rigid  as  the  Roman  rule,  it  scaled 
the  hills  and  spanned  the  valleys :  the  crooked 
must  be  made  straight  before  it,  and  the  rough 

I*  (9) 


10  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

places  plain.  No  kindly  chain,  gently  binding 
nation  to  nation  with  friendly  links  ;  but  a 
weapon  of  war,  straight  as  the  spear  of  the 
soldier,  as  the  rod  of  the  lictor,  as  the  flight 
of  an  arrow,  it  shot  over  mountain  and  chasm, 
through  forest  and  marsh — not  to  link  the  na- 
tions to  each  other,  but  to  bind  the  ends  of 
the  earth  to  Rome.  To  the  Roman,  a  ray  of 
light  from  the  great  focus  of  the  Empire  ;  to 
the  German  captive,  a  transverse  strand  of 
the  great  mystic  web  in  which  tribe  after  tribe 
of  her  race  had  been  entangled  and  crushed. 

Far  back  into  her  inner  life  those  arrowy 
lines  led  her:  mystic  Runes  bringing  up  shad- 
owy forms  from  the  icy  hollows  or  fiery  abys- 
ses of  the  past — bringing  down  royal  shapes 
from  its  sunny  heights.  Far  back  to  a  hut  on 
the  edge  of  a  Northern  forest ;  one  of  those 
huge,  impenetrable  forests  which  gave  mys- 
tery and  poetry  to  the  prosaic  levels  of  her 
North  German  land  ;  the  great  Teutoberger 
Forest  between  the  rivers  Lippe  and  Weser. 

Murmurs  of  waters  and  of  pines  had  min- 
gled with  her  mother's  cradle -songs.  'For 
she,  too,  sitting  there  so  solitary,  so  helpless, 
had  been  welcomed  into  the  world  as  if  it 
were  to  be  a  joyous  home  to  her — as  if  it  were 
the  abiding-place,  the  city  of  the  shining  pal- 
aces where  dwelt  the  JEsir,  the  mighty  gods. 
She,  too,  had  once  been  a  jewel  and  a  treas- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  n 

ure,  cherished  and  guarded  as  if  she  were 
worth  it :  in  that  earliest  home,  and  then  in 
another. 

The  last  was  too  near  to  bear  looking  at 
yet.  Her  thoughts  went  back  to  the  first. 
Brothers  and  sisters  growing  up  in  one  home : 
their  training,  the  necessity  of  labor  and  the 
example  of  brave  and  pure  lives  ;  their  play, 
wild  feats  of  daring,  wrestling,  climbing  gi- 
gantic forest-trees,  scaling  all  but  inaccessible 
rocks,  leaping  streams  or  breasting  them  at 
flood,  the  mimicry  of  the  labor  of  the  men 
and  women  they  were  to  follow — of  the  hunts- 
man, the  boatman,  and  the  smith. 

The  soldier's  was  no  distinctive  calling  then. 
All  the  men  had  to  fight — all  free  men  ;  and 
free  women  too,  if  needed.  The  wolves  and 
the  neighboring  Sclaves  had  no  respect  for 
sex  or  age ;  and  if  the  hand  of  maid  and  moth- 
er could  not  grasp  the  spear  as  well  as  the 
shepherd's  staff  and  the  reaper's  hook,  what 
would  become  of  the  homes,  and  the  harvests, 
and  the  little  ones,  when  the  men  were  away 
at  the  war  or  the  chase,  and  the  growl  of  the 
hungry  bear  was  heard  across  the  snow,  or 
the  form  of  some  treacherous  foe  was  seen 
lurking  behind  the  pine-stems  ?  The  German 
women  had  need  to  be  strong,  and  brave,  and 
true — well-nigh  as  strong  and  altogether  as 
brave  as  the  men — if  the  race  was  to  fight  its 


12  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

way  through  the  centuries,  and  Europe  was 
to  be. 

As  Siguna,  the  German  captive,  sate  at  the 
tent  door  in  the  dusk,  dreamily  following  the 
white  line  of  paved  way — whose  sharp  out- 
line, denned  against  the  dark  borders  of  wood 
or  herbage,  was  the  only  thing  yet  cleaVly 
visible — until  it  was  lost  in  the  darkness,  her 
thoughts  also  lost  themselves  with  it  in  a 
deeper  darkness,  and  became  more  and  more 
dim  and  sombre.  Once,  indeed,  there  had 
been  need  that  she  should  be  strong,  and 
brave,  and  true :  a  free  woman  of  noble  birth  ; 
the  wife  of  a  brave  free  man,  honored  among 
his  tribe  for  his  skill  and  strength  in  forging 
weapons  and  wielding  them,  in  wielding  the 
smith's  hammer  and  the  warrior's  spear  ;  the 
mother  of  boys  and  maidens  who  were  to  bear 
on  the  good  name  and  build  up  the  house  and 
the  tribe. 

But  now  what  use  was  there  for  strength, 
or  courage,  or  faith — in  her,  a  captive  slave  ? 
Her  husband,  they  said,  had  fallen  in  the  bat- 
tle which  the  General  Cascina  had  won  over 
the  hero.  Herman  in  the  Teutoberger  Wald  ; 
her  sons  with  him — all  save  the  youngest,  who 
now  lay  sleeping,  a  captive  in  the  tent.  She 
herself,  her  young  son  Siward,  and  her  little 
daughter  Hilda,  had  been  betrayed  by  the 
chief  Segestes  into  the  hands  of  the  Romans 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  I3 

at  the  same  time  with  Thusnelda,  bride  of  the 
hero  Herman,  and  the  daughter  of  the  traitor. 
Her  strength  would  only  make  her  a  more 
useful  slave  to  the  conquerors ;  her  courage 
availed  nothing  to  defend  herself  or  her  chil- 
dren ;  and  what  were  truth  and  honor  to  one 
who  henceforth  was  a  chattel,  with  no  rec- 
ognized relationship,  no  rights,  no  hopes  ? 
Would  it  not  be  well  for  her  to  do  what  Va- 
rus,  the  hapless  Roman  general,  had  so  lately 
done,  when  his  entangled  legions  lay  at  the 
mercy  of  the  young  hero  Herman  ?  He  fell, 
despairing,  on  his  own  sword  ;  and  fled  thus, 
not  from  one  of  his  enemies,  but  from  all  for 
ever. 

"  Fled  !"  yes,  fled.  Such  an  end  she  felt 
would  be  flight,  not  rashly  to  be  chosen  by  a 
German  freewoman. 

Who  could  say  whether,  in  that  dim  under- 
world also,  there  might  not  be  a  second  burial 
for  the  souls  of  cowards  who  thus  deserted 
their  post ;  as  cowards  among  her  people 
were  suffocated  and  buried  in  mud  ? 

Moreover,  as  she  gazed  into  the  darkness,  a 
strong  persuasion  came  over  her — not  for  the 
first  time,  but  each  time  gathering  strength — 
that  Olave,  her  husband,  was  not  slain,  that 
he  still  survived,  and  that  she  was  bound  to 
live  for  him  and  for  his  children.  A  strange 
irresistible  presentiment  and  persuasion,  such 


14  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

as  she  had  been  wont  to  feel  from  her  youth, 
such  as  haunts  an  imaginative  race  like  hers 
— a  presentiment  held  sacred  in  those  days 
among  her  people,  as  a  divine  instinct  or  in- 
spiration, which  was  one  of  the  spiritual  pre- 
rogatives of  brave  and  pure  women. 

This  time  it  was  quickened  and  reinforced 
by  a  touch  which  awoke  instincts  at  least  as 
sacred. 

Her  son  Siward  had  crept  to  her  side  at 
the  tent  door,  noiselessly,  and  pressing  her 
hand  against  his  cheek,  he  drew  it  around 
him.  A  boy  of  sixteen,  hardy  and  daring,  as 
boys  of  his  race  were  wont  to  be  ;  had  he  been 
at  home  and  free,  the  men  of  his  tribe  would 
ere  this  have  gathered  together  and  endued 
him  with  the  sword  and  buckler,  wherewith 
to  prove  and  betoken  his  manhood.  But  for 
nearly  two  years  he  had  been  a  captive  in  the 
Roman  camp,  the  camp  of  Germanicus.  His 
mother  had  been  in  the  household  of  Agrip- 
pina,  and  he  himself  the  play-fellow  of  the 
child  Caligula,  darling  of  the  veterans — shod, 
to  please  them,  in  his  toy  caligas,  copies  of 
their  rough  military  shoes.  For  Siward  was 
gentle,  as  the  courageous  are  wont  to  be,  and 
children  trusted  him.  And  the  Emperor  Ca- 
ligula was  once  a  child  ; — what  he  was  to  be- 
come, unknown  to  his  play-fellows  the  vete- 
rans, or  to  himself. 


VICTOET  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  jj 

"  Mother,"  the  boy  whispered,  pouring  out 
in  a  swift  torrent  the  thoughts  and  purposes 
that  had  been  slowly  gathering  within  him, 
"you  cannot  sleep.  Nor  can  I.  You  are 
thinking  of  to-morrow  ;  of  the  Roman  tri- 
umph, and  of  our  shame.  But  do  not  heed 
the  triumph.  I  heed  it  not.  We  were  not 
conquered  by  the  Romans  ;  we  neither  fled, 
nor  were  taken  in  fair  fight,  but  betrayed  by 
our  own  people.  Traitors  alike,  those  who 
bought  and  sold  us.  The  shame  is  theirs,  not 
ours.  And,  mother,  I  have  been  thinking  it 
matters  little  whether  they  call  me  slave  or 
free.  If  I  choose  to  serve,  I  serve  freely. 
And  I  do  choose  to  serve  ;  for  by  serving  the 
Romans  we  may  learn  to  conquer  them,  as 
our  Herman  did.  And  of  all  Romans  I  choose 
to  serve  Germanicus  and  Agrippina.  For  she 
is  brave  and  true,  and  he  is  brave  and  gener- 
ous, save  in  the  matter  of  buying  us  of  the 
traitor.  Mother,"  he  entreated,  "  do  not  heed 
the  triumph.  I  have  heard  some  say,  it  is  no 
triumph  to  Germanicus.  He  had  rather  far 
have  been  winning  victories  in  Germany,  than 
dragging  captives  after  him  at  Rome,  leaving 
our  people  to  undo  his  victories.  Think  not 
of  the  chains  and  jeers  of  these  Romans. 
Think  of  us,  your  children,  who  will  never 
dishonor  our  father  nor  thee.  Think  of  us, 
and  walk,  not  as  a  captive,  but  as  a  crowned 


1 6  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

queen.  For  I  have  set  my  heart  to  be  patient, 
and  to  learn  as  Herman  did,  of  these  Romans, 
until  one  day,  if  it  may  be,  I  may  help  to  con- 
quer freedom  back,  for  us  and  for  our  race." 

She  looked  proudly  on  his  fair  open  brow, 
and  then  answered  in  a  low,  murmuring 
voice, — 

"  You  will  never  dishonor  me,  nor  will  I 
ever  desert  you.  But  I  was  thinking  not  of 
the  morrow,  nor  of  any  morrows.  The  mor- 
rows are  for  you,  not  for  me  ;  unless,  indeed, 
the  inward  voice  speak  true,  and  he  lives, 
your  father  yet  lives  !" 

Her  voice  trembled,  and  the  boy  did  not 
interrupt  her  by  a  question. 

"  Remember,  my  son,  I  have  this  voice  with- 
in me,  dim  and  low,  yet  mightier  than  all  men 
can  say  to  the  contrary.  Remember  —  but 
speak  not  of  it  unless  I  tell  you.  Live  you  as 
if  he  were  slain,  and  you  alone  bore  his  name. 
I  live  as  if  he  lived." 

Then  pointing  to  the  reach  of  road,  she 
ccntinued,  "  I  was  not  thinking  of  to-morrow, 
but  of  yesterdays  long  past ;  tracing  back  that 
fatal  road  to  its  beginning  far  away  in  the 
Teutoberger  Forest,  far  away  in  the  days  that 
are  gone.  Listen,  my  son,  and  remember. 
For  the  day  is  beginning  to  dawn,  and  who 
knows  how  often  we  may  be  alone  together 
thus,  and  free  to  speak  ?.. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  ij 

"  We  lived  at  the  edge  of  the  Forest.  In 
my  childhood  we  knew  no  foes  but  the  bears 
and  wolves  which  haunted  it,  and  some  stray 
bands  of  Sclaves,  wandering  from  their  lands 
beyond  the  Elbe,  the  hordes  which  ever  press 
our  people  onward  unless  we  stem  their  cease- 
less torrents  back,  or  capture  them  and  make 
them  slaves." 

"  The  Sclaves  were  our  slaves.  Now  we 
are  to  be  slaves  of  the  Romans,"  said  the  boy. 
"  I  can  understand  now  why  our  slaves  hated 
us,  and  were  not  to  be  trusted." 

"  Slaves  these  must  be  of  necessity,"  Siguna 
replied  ;  "  for  men  are  not  of  one  blood,  nor 
one  destiny,  any  more  than  trees.  '  How  could 
the  free  do  the  noble  work,  unless  there  were 
slaves  to  do  the  base  ?  The  wrong  is  that  we 
Germans,  who  were  born  to  be  free,  should 
be  ensnared  and  enslaved,  instead  of  those 
wild  savage  hordes  who  can  speak  no  lan- 
guage fit  for  freemen,  and  were  born  to  serve. 
My  brothers  and  sisters,"  she  continued,  "had 
left  the  father's  house.  They  had  married,  and 
had  houses  and  slaves  of  their  own.  I  was 
left  alone  with  my  father  and  mother,  he  a 
gray-haired  man.  We  knew  no  foes  save  the 
wild  beasts  and  the  wild  men  ;  until  one  sum- 
mer morning  I  heard  my  father's  voice,  grown 
tremulous  and  feeble  now,  in  tones  more 
tremulous  than  usual,  as  he  came  in  from  his 


1 8  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

work.  '  Hilda,  mother,'  he  said, '  and  Siguna, 
daughter :  our  days  in  the  land  of  our  fathers 
are  numbered.  The  Southern  men  are  on 
us,  the  men  of  Rome.  My  bones  will  be  the 
last  laid  among  the  dead  of  our  race.  You 
will  bury  me,  and  then  go  hence  to  be  free.' 
We  thought  he  must  have  seen  an  army,  and 
listened  hour  after  hour  to  hear  the  tread  of 
armed  men  ;  but  when,  later  in  the  day,  we 
followed  him  to  a  brow  of  a  neighboring  hill, 
we  could  see  nothing  along  the  marshes  and 
far  undulations  of  the  heath  but  an  orderly 
band  of  workmen,  digging  trenches,  which 
others  were  carefully  filling  up  with  stones. 

"  It  seemed  a  harmless,  peaceable  employ- 
ment ;  but  my  father  said, — 

"  '  It  is  the  end  of  the  chain  of  the  giants. 
The  other  end  is  in  the  hands  of  the  man  who 
rules  all  men,  save  a  few  of  us  Germans. 

"  '  Between  us  and  the  dwelling  of  the  gods 
is  the  Rainbow  Bridge,  whereon  the  gods  and 
heroes  come  to  and  fro. 

" '  This  is  the  bridge  between  us  and  the 
dwelling  of  the  destroyers.  Thereon  hence- 
forth for  ever  those  who  hate  us  will  pass  to 
and  fro,  until  they  drive  us  from  our  homes. 
Where  that  straight  way  comes,  the  Roman 
rules,  and  the  Teuton  must  fly  or  become  a 
slave,  moulded  unto  the  likeness  of  the  stran- 
ger, speaking  his  Roman  tongue,  and  wearing 


VICTOR Y  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  I9 

his  garb.'  But  Olave  the  brave,  your  father, 
my  betrothed  from  childhood,  son  of  the  smith 
(whose  arm  could  wield  the  hammer  like  a 
god,  and  the  spear  like  a  hero,  although  he 
was  but  a  boy),  saw  hope  where  the  aged  saw 
only  fear,  and  he  said  afterwards,  secretly,  to 
me, — 

"  '  A  bridge  for  one  is  a  bridge  for  another. 
Whence  the  Southern  came,  thither  the  North- 
ern men  can  go.  At  the  other  end  of  the 
chain  is  the  golden  city,  "  glorious  as  Asgard, 
the  city  of  the  gods."  We  will  make  that 
road. as  the  Rainbow  Bridge,  and  we  will  be 
the  heroes  who  shall  tread  it  to  storm  the  gol- 
den city,  and  make  it  ours  and  yours.' 

"And  I,  too,  was  young,  believed  the  voice 
of  youth,  and  thought  hope  the  true  light  that 
shall  endure,  and  fear  mere  twilight  shadow, 
born  of  the  darkness  which  is  nothing,  and 
vanishing  into  the  nothingness  whence  it 
came. 

"  So  from  day  to  day  we  watched  the  stran- 
gers at  their  work.  And  we  could  not  but 
wonder  at  their  skill.  The  ground  was  in 
many  parts  soft  and  marshy,  such  as  the 
lightest-footed  maiden  could  scarcely  cross  in 
safety.  But  these  strangers  had  determined 
to  make  it  solid  and  strong  enough  to  bear 
the  weight  of  military  wagons,  laden  baggage 
mules,  and  the  tread  of  heavily-armed  legions. 


20          VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

And  they  did  it.  First,  they  dug  the  two 
trenches  straight  as  an  arrow,  to  mark  out 
the  road  ;  then  the  deep  ditch  between.  Mean- 
time other  laborers  had  been  felling  trees  in 
the  forests  ;  piles  were  cut  of  the  strongest 
wood,  and  sunk  deep  in  the  marshy  ground. 
These  were  covered  with  a  thick  layer  of 
small  stones  and  shingle — some  of  it  gathered 
from  the  river-bed,  others  broken  fragments 
of  the  stones  they  were  shaping  and  cutting 
for  the  surface.  For  each  man  had  his  given 
work.  There  was  no  debating  or  hesitating 
among  them.  Layer  on  layer  lay  the  stones, 
and  layer  on  layer  \vorked  the  men.  The 
wood-cutter  did  not  interfere  with  the  stone- 
cutter, nor  the  stone-cutter  with  the  brick- 
layer, any  more  than  the  piles  with  the  stones, 
or  the  stones  with  the  layer  of  rubble-work — 
the  crumbled  stone  cemented  with  lime  which 
lay  above  it — or  that  with  the  layer  of  broken 
pottery  and  brick-work  above  again.  Young 
as  I  then  was,  I  remember  how  the  sense  of 
Law  and  Order,  and  the  silent,  continuous 
work,  among  them,  contrasted  with  our  di- 
visions and  debates,  our  eager  talking  over 
work,  and  fitful  intervals  of  work  and  lazy 
revelling,  fell  on  me  with  a  crushing  sense  of 
power. 

"  The  very  broken   fragments   of  pottery, 
which  lay  as  unsightly  encumbrances  before 


VICTORY  OF  T1IE   VANQUISHED.  2l 

our  huts,  were  treasures  in  those  magical 
hands. 

"  And  at  last  came  the  smooth  stones  from 
the  quarries  they  made  in  the  hills,  carefully 
shaped  and  levelled,  and  laid  on  the  surface, 
rammed  down  and  cemented  and  fitted,  so 
that  the  whole  was  one  unbroken  building, 
smooth  and  solid,  and  strong  enough,  I 
thought,  for  the  walls  of  Asgard.  And  over 
it  passed  the  armed  bands,  man  and  horse, 
the  heavy  wagons,  and  the  laden  mules.  They 
had  made  a  way  through  the  marsh  as  solid 
as  the  everlasting  rocks.  What  might  they 
not  do  ?  Why  not  make  a  way  through  the 
air  or  the  sea  ? 

"Wood  from  our  forests,  shingle  from  our 
rivers,  potsherds  from  our  rubbish  heaps,  rock 
from  our  hills,  they  had  gathered  all  into  one 
mighty  weapon  for  our  ruin. 

"  One  evening  after  this,  there  was  a  gath- 
ering of  men  from  many  tribes  in  our  home,  to 
debate  how  best  to  encounter  the  invader- 
Some  reproached  the  rest  that  they  had  ever 
suffered  the  road  to  be  made ;  others  debated 
how  best  to  destroy  it.  Olave  your  father, 
who  was  older  now,  and  began  to  take  his 
place  among  the  men,  smiled ;  and  when  the 
elders  had  all  spoken,  he  said  quietly,  as  was 
his  wont, — 

' '  Why  hinder  the  bees  from  building  ?     If 


22  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

we  are  strong  and  vigilant  enough,  they  are 
but  storing  wax  and  honey  for  us.  Is  not 
the  hero  Herman,  the  son  of  Sigimer,  among 
us?  Has  he  not  lived  among  the  men  of 
Rome,  and  learned  their  wisdom,  while  his 
heart  remains  true  to  his  people  ?  If  we  are 
united,  and  will  obey  him,  will  he  not  lead  us 
to  victory  ?  Then  shall  their  wondrous  road 
— those  long  strands  of  their  Roman  web 
— lead  them  to  be  our  prey,  not  us  to  be 
theirs. 

"But  at  the  name  of  Herman  the  strife 
arose  loud.  Some  said  he  was  ambitious,  and 
would  make  himself  a  king.  Some,  '  that  he 
was  of  another  tribe,  and  no  one  could  expect 
a  freeman  of  the  Attuarii  to  submit  to  a  man 
of  the  Chertfeci,  be  he  wise  and  brave  as  he 
might.  One  tribe  was  as  good  as  another, 
and  one  freeman  worth  as  much  as  another. 
What  right  had  any  to  rule  where  all  were 
free  ?'  And  so,  in  strife  and  debate,  the  meet- 
ing broke  up. 

"  And  Olave  was  grieved,  and  for  once  de- 
sponding; and  he  said,  as  we  took  leave  by 
the  Roman  road,  which  now  passed  close  be- 
fore our  door, — 

"  '  Maybe  your  father  spoke  too  truly.  Age 
foresees ;  let  youth  prevent  if  possible.  But 
these  Romans  are  the  road,  and  we  the  shin- 
gle. They  are  one,  and  we  are  many.  They 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  2$ 

many  gathered  into  one.     We  one  crumbled 
into  many.' 

"  Perhaps  I  remember  these  words  so  well, 
because  he  spoke  them  on  the  eve  of  our  mar- 
riage. 

"  Olave  came  to  live  in  our  home,  and  rear- 
ed his  forge  beside  the  hut,  and  was  as  a  son 
to  my  parents.  And  grandchildren  grew  up 
to  minister  to  them,  and  to  bear  on  their  name, 
and  to  make  their  fading  lives  glad  with  new 
life,  until  we  laid  them  underneath  the  soil  of 
the  forest,  among  the  sires  of  our  tribe. 

"  But  meantime  the  road  was  slowly  doing 
its  work.  Roman  soldiers  traversed  it  north- 
ward into  the  land  they  knew  not ;  and  soon 
young  Germans  began  to  traverse  it  south- 
ward into  the  land  we  knew  not.  An  altar  to 
Augustus  Caesar  had  been  erected  beyond  the 
Elbe ;  and  many  of  our  people  saw  that  this 
unseen  Augustus  was  indeed  the  strongest, 
and  deemed  it  fit  that  he  should  be  called  di- 
vine, and  that  godlike  honors  should  be  paid 
to  him  as  to  any  of  the  gods  of  Asgard.  For 
our  gods  had  not  hindered  the  making  of  the 
roads ;  and  they  live  far  off  in  Asgard,  and  the 
Rainbow  Bridge  between  them  and  us  could 
be  crossed  at  no  man's  will.  But  this  road 
could  be  trodden  by  all  freemen  whensoever 
and  whithersoever  they  would.  And  there 


24  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUJ8HED. 

were  rumors  of  an  earthly  Asgard  at  the  end  ; 
and  of  welcomes  and  revelries  there  more  joy- 
ous than  the  feasts  of  the  heroes,  and  of  drink 
which  made  the  heart  of  man  more  glad  than 
the  milk  of  Heidrun  the  goat,  or  the  beer  of 
the  gods. 

"  Many  of  these  youths  passed  us  on  their 
southward  ventures. 

"  '  Let  us  go  to  the  golden  south/  they  said 
to  Olave  as  they  went  on  their  southward 
way,  whilst  he  sharpened  their  weapons.  '  We 
are  strong,  and  these  strangers  are  wise.  Let 
us  learn  their  wisdom,  and  our  strength  shall 
win  their  spoils.  Go  thou  with  us.  Learn  to 
forge  weapons  like  theirs.  And  then  thy 
strong  right  arm  shall  wield  them  as  no  South- 
ern man  can.' 

"  There  was  a  time  when  your  father  was 
tempted.  For  the  magic  road  stretched  into 
the  distance  before  us  always,  enticing  the 
imagination  like  the  witchery  of  an  evil  Rune. 
But  he  resisted  and  stayed,  for  our  sakes  ;  for 
me  and  the  little  ones.  And  gradually  the 
wish  wore  away. 

"  For  few  northern  men  came  back,  and 
those  seemed  to  us  to  have  grown  neither 
wise  nor  strong.  They  looked  little  like  the 
heroes.  They  had  lost  the  strength  of  the 
north,  and  had  not  gained  the  wisdom  of  the 
south  ;  and  the  tales  they  brought  of  the  City 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  2$ 

Rome  were  more  like  rumors  of  the  abyss,  of 
the  dwellings  of  darkness,  than  of  the  golden 
homes. 

"  At  last  the  road  finished  its  work  for  us. 
Tiberius  Caesar,  the  emperor,  built  ships  and 
launched  them  on  the  Northern  Sea,  and  sail- 
ed up  the  River  Elbe,  piercing  far  into  our 
land.  And  at  the  same  time,  by  a  wondrous 
concert,  such  as  it  seemed  to  us  only  the  gods 
could  bring  to  pass,  another  army  came  thun- 
dering along  the  fatal  road,  through  the  val- 
ley of  the  Lippe,  past  our  doors;  and  at 
the  appointed  place  —  one  through  the  seas 
and  rivers  unknown  to  them,  and  the  other 
through  marsh  and  forest,  and  both  through 
a  hostile  land — the  armies  met.  What  they 
did  when  they  thus  magically  met  was  not 
the  point  of  moment.  The  meeting  was  the 
marvel.  Who  but  gods  could  thus  foresee 
and  conquer  the  future,  and  live  and  order  in 
the  months  to  come  as  if  they  were  to-day  ? 

"  It  was  reported  that  an  aged  chief  of  our 
people  paddled  in  his  canoe  across  the  Elbe 
to  touch  the  hand  of  Tiberius,  and  cried, 
'  What  madness  to  contend  against  these  un- 
seen divinities.  I,  by  the  grace  of  Caesar,  this 
day  have  seen  a  god  !' 

"  And  so  the  whole  land  was  subdued,  and 
called  a  Province  of  the  City  Rome.  Then 
Varus,  the  plunderer,  was  sent  to  govern  us. 

2 


26  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

And  along  the  road  came  not  soldiers  only, 
but  the  tax-gatherer  and  the  lictor.  And  we 
learned  what  Roman  rule  meant.  This  Varus 
had  come  from  the  East,  where,  they  say,  men 
have  had  their  manhood  long  crushed  out  of 
them,  and  bear  anything,  like  beasts  of  bur- 
den ;  and  he  thought  to  rob  and  ruin  us  as 
easily.  We  whose  men  had  not  had  the  free 
manhood  crushed  out  of  them,  whose  women 
could  at  need  be  as  brave  as  the  men  ! 

"  He  thought  to  rule  us  with  rods,  as  if  we 
had  been  slaves  or  beasts  of  burden.  He 
would  compel  our  men  to  work  at  road  and 
wall.  The  labor  we  thought  no  shame.  Our 
bravest  were  smiths  and  builders — workers  in 
iron  and  wood.  Nor  did  we  think  it  shame 
to  learn,  where  the  men  of  Rome  were  wiser 
than  we.  Men  who  will  not  learn  are  for  ever 
babes.  Labor  and  learning  are  no  degrada- 
tion for  the  noblest ;  Siward,  my  son,  never 
think  they  are.  But  to  be  driven  to  labor 
like  beasts  ; — this  no  freeman  or  freewoman 
would  bear. 

"  Moreover  the  tyrant  was  base.  He  op- 
pressed us,  not  for  his  people  or  his  City 
Rome,  but  for  himself — to  fill  his  coffers  with 
treasure,  the  produce  of  our  blood  and  toil. 
Tyranny,  whose  end  was  greed, — how  could 
that  stand  ? 

"So  there  was  storm   and  tumult  every- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  2/ 

where— fires  at  night,  feuds  by  day ;  but  no 
great  deliverance  wrought,  until  Herman  the 
hero  rose,  and  ensnared  the  ensnarer,  and  the 
three  legions  perished  in  the  Teutoberger 
Forest.  And  Varus,  the  covetous  oppressor, 
could  not  brave  his  fate,  but  fled  from  it,  fall- 
ing on  his  own  sword. 

"  Among  the  pines  of  the  Teutoberger  For- 
est they  fell,  and  to  this  day  the  turf  is  green 
around  their  bones;  nor,  for  all  their  boast- 
ing, are-  their  eagles  all  won  back. 

"  Then  our  people  feared  altars  in  the  for- 
est. There  were  sacrifices  to  the  powers  of 
darkness,  for  such  there  are  ;  and  it  is  hard  to 
know  which  are  the  stronger,  the  powers  of 
evil  or  of  good.  Wherefore  the  evil  powers 
must  be  appeased. 

"  Your  father  was  there,  and  he  told  me  the 
men  of  Rome,  the  victims,  for  the  most  part 
met  their  fate  bravely  as  could  the  bravest 
among  us,  so  that  his  heart  was  grieved  for 
them.  It  is  not  wrong,  I  think,  for  women  or 
for  men  to  pity.  But  pity  must  never  weaken 
the  arm  in  striking  for  our  people.  For  the 
races  of  men  are  diverse,  and  their  fathers,  and 
their  gods  ;  and  each  must  be  true  to  his  own. 

"  That  was  a  glorious  time  for  our  people. 
For  once  we  were  united.  The  oppressor 
was  slain ;  the  invaders  fled ;  the  forts  were 
deserted. 


28  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  And  once  more  the  great  road  stretched 
before  us,  through  the  valley  of  the  winding 
Lippe,  among  the  meadows  and  the  forests,, 
untrodden  by  Roman  feet;  a  bridge,  your 
father  said,  whereon  the  Germans  should  yet 
cross  and  storm  the  golden  city,  and  win  the 
wisdom  which  holds  the  key  of  all  the  treas- 
ures. 

"  But  they  came  back — too  surely  the  in- 
vaders came  back.  They  say  these  Romans 
have  two  sacred  places,  with  their  guardian 
gods.  The  first  is  the  hearth  with  the  hearth- 
gods,  which  every  man  must  defend  with  life. 
This  we  Germans  understand.  To  us  also  the 
hearth  is  sacred.  Perchance  more  than  to  the 
men  of  Rome. 

"  But  the  Romans  have  another  sacred 
place,  and  a  god  they  call  Boundary,  the  end 
as  the  other  is  the  beginning,  the  goal  as  the 
other  is  the  starting-point,  of  the  ways  of  men ; 
a  god  who  advances  but  never  retreats. 

"  To  them  the  utmost  limit  of  their  empire 
is  sacred  as  the  inmost  sanctuary  of  their 
home.  And  where  once  this  god  Boundary 
sets  up  his  stone,  thither  at  last  must  the  tide 
of  Rome  reach,  and  thence  must  it  never  roll 
back.  Or  if  beaten  back  again  and  again, 
there  must  the  tide  at  the  end  rise  and  re- 
main. 

"  In  vain,  therefore,  had  we  driven  these 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  29 

Romans  back,  and  given  the  bones  of  their 
vanquished  legions  to  blanch  on  the  green  sod 
of  our  forests.  Their  god  Boundary  must  be 
avenged,  and  his  sacred  place  maintained ; 
and  back  swept  the  overwhelming  tide  from 
far-off  inexhaustible  sources,  unknown  to  us. 
Once  more  they  come  up  the  Lippe  valley, 
and  the  fatal  road  thundered  with  the  roll  of 
wagons  and  the  tread  of  the  legions. 

"  And  there  were  battles  and  betrayals. 

"  This  Caesar  they  call  Germanicus  came 
against  us  again.  Once  more  the  Roman  ar- 
mies were  thrust  through  our  confederate 
tribes.  The  solid  wedge  among  the  crum- 
bling confederacies.  The  road  against  the 
shingle.  The  strong  among  us  were  driven 
back  or  crushed.  The  weak  were  split  into 
countless  fragments.  Once  more  their  armies 
passed  along  the  road  of  the  Lippe  valley  into 
the  Teutoberger  Forest.  They  saw  the  bones 
of  the  slaughtered  legions  of  Varus,  and  la- 
mented over  them,  and  raised  over  them  the 
funeral  mound.  And  there,  in  the  Teutober- 
ger Forest,  our  best  and  bravest  fell  at  the 
end  of  the  fatal  road.  Your  father  and  your 
brothers  fell  within  sight  of  our  home ;  and 
ere  they  fell  we  whom  they  died  to  defend 
had  been  betrayed  to  the  foe  by  our  own 
people. 

"  They   bring    no    captives    taken   by   the 


30          VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

sword  to  grace  this  triumph.  Nothing  but  a 
few  women  and  children  basely  sold.  Did 
I  not  see  the  legions  return  from  the  for- 
est? 

"  We  were  in  captivity  in  the  Roman  camp 
by  the  Rhine. 

"  The  whole  camp  had  been  thrown  into 
confusion  by  rumors  of  the  rout  of  the  le- 
gions. Another  slaughter  of  Varus,  they  said, 
another  army  swallowed  up  in  the  depths  of 
the  Teutoberger  Forest. 

"  They  did  not  feel  secure  behind  their  de- 
fences, though  the  Rhine  lay  between  them 
and  our  people.  They  clamored  to  break 
down  the  bridge,  lest  the  conquering  Ger- 
mans should  rush  into  the  camp  after  the  fly- 
ing legions. 

"  The  heart  of  many  a  German  captive  beat 
high  with  hope  that  day.  By  evening  whom 
might  we  not  be  welcoming  ? 

"  But  no  welcomes  were  in  store  for  us. 

"  Agrippina,  the  brave  matron,  went  to  the 
further  end  of  the  bridge  —  the  end  nearest 
the  dreaded  foe — and  thence  none  could  in- 
duce her  to  move.  She  stood  there  with  her 
boy  Caligula,  the  darling  of  the  camp,  and 
forbade  them  to  touch  the  bridge  until  the 
fugitives,  if  such  there  were  to  be,  were  safe 
over  it. 

"  And  soon,  instead  of  a  rout  of  fugitives, 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  31 

appeared  the  heads  of  the  legions  marching 
in  order.  They  marched  before  her,  four  un- 
broken legions ;  learning,  doubtless,  as  they 
passed  what  they  owed  to  her.  And  as  they 
passed  she  spoke  brave  words  of  welcome  to 
them,  and  of  cheer  to  the  wounded.  And 
with  her  own  hands  she  ministered  to  their 
wants.  A  noble,  helpful  woman.  I  think  it 
no  shame  to  serve  her. 

"  Yet  scarcely  did  that  army  come  back  like 
conquerors.  No  songs  of  triumph,  such  as 
our  Germans  sung  when  they  have  over- 
come ;  and  no  spoils,  nor  any  prisoners. 

"  Neither  did  it  seem  to  us  glorious  when, 
a  few  weeks  afterwards,  Germanicus  himself 
came  back  with  his  horsemen  for  the  most 
part  on  foot,  and  the  footmen  lightened  of 
much  of  their  armor,  and  poorly  clad,  and 
their  numbers  sorely  thinned. 

"  It  was  said  that  these  legions  had  suffered 
for  their  heroic  faithfulness  to  the  law  and 
order  which  makes  their  strength  ;  that  being 
commanded  to  march  within  sight  of  the 
Northern  Sea,  they  had  obeyed  too  loyally, 
and  had  been  swept  away  in  the  rapid  rising 
of  its  tides. 

"  But  when  another  weary  year  had  passed 
away  over  us  still  captive  in  the  camp,  and 
once  more  Germanicus  came  back  to  winter 
quarters,  and  there  was  talk  again  of  a  great 


32  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.     , 

Roman  victory,  the  victors  brought  little 
token  of  their  conquests. 

"  Slowly  his  shattered  fleet  came  up  the 
broad  waters  of  our  Rhine  to  that  Colonia 
they  have  called  Agrippina,  after  his  brave 
wife ;  their  oars  often  lost,  soldiers'  cloaks 
hoisted  instead  of  the  torn  sails,  and  the  men 
full  of  tales  of  dreadful  fierce  sea-monsters, 
'  and  of  wrecks  among  wild  men.  Yet  again 
no  spoils,  and  no  prisoners,  and  no  sign  of  the 
god  Boundary  having  set  up  his  pillars  deep- 
er in  our  forests. 

"  The  only  spoils,  the  only  prisoners  still 
are  we,  betrayed  women  and  children.  Yet 
to-morrow  they  will  drag  us  before  the  con- 
queror's car,  and  will  shout  that  the  Germans 
are  vanquished. 

"  What  matters  it,  my  son  ?  Words  do  not 
alter  things  that  are,  though  they  may  hide 
them  for  a  time.  If  the  spring  has  come,  let 
the  ice  glitter  as  it  may,  it  will  break  under 
their  boastful  tread.  The  betrayed  Thusnel- 
da,  the  noble  young  wife  of  our  Herman,  need 
not  break  her  heart,  although  she  bear  his  cap- 
tive babe  in  her  arms  at  this  Roman  triumph. 

"  Her  heart  need  not  break ;  save  for  the 
treachery  of  her  father.  For  Herman  lives ; 
and  who  knows  who  beside  ? 

"  Our  long,  weary  journey  along  the  fatal 
road  is  all  but  done. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  33 

"  At  the  other  end  in  the  Teutoberger  For- 
est lie  the  bones  of  the  legions  of  Varus,  and, 
alas  !  of  many  of  our  noblest  Germans,  before 
whom  Varus  fell.  The  winds  are  sighing 
among  the  pines  above  them,  as  I  speak,  and 
the  grass  is  slowly  growing  over  them. 

"  The  solid  building  has  broken  up  the 
shingle. 

"  We  are  coming  at  last  to  where  the  fatal 
road  begins.  It  has  drawn  us  on  at  last  into 
the  magic  web  it  binds  together.  My  father's 
fears  have  proved  true.  It  has  done  its  evil 
work  for  us.  To-morrow  we  shall  tread  its 
first  steps,  helpless  captives,  creeping  slowly 
up  the  hills  of  Rome  !" 

She  was  silent. 

The  two — mother  and  son — sate  together  at 
the  tent  door  on  the  hills,  in  imaginative  sim- 
plicity, one  almost  as  much  a  child  as  the 
other. 

Behind  them  their  own  forests :  the  scat- 
tered forest-huts,  the  keen  individual  life  of 
personal  adventure  and  self-defence — the  life 
of  the  family  or  the  clan,  with  its  ideal  of  free- 
dom and  of  loyalty.  Behind  them  the  free 
forest-life,  with  its  precarious  relations  with 
men,  and  its  close  relationships  with  the  beasts 
of  the  field:  the  bear  and  the  wolf  endued  for 
them  with  a  kind  of  demoniac  personality  ;  the 
fox  and  the  squirrel  and  the  birds  with  a  quaint 


34  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

humorous  mischief;  the  sheep  and  even  the 
swine  regarded  as  part  of  the  family  ;  the  dog 
for  the  first  time  understood,  his  wistful  speech- 
lessness  interpreted,  his  kindly  ways  and  his 
loyal  devotion  appreciated,  and,  like  so  many 
other  good  things,  created  by  being  compre- 
hended. 

Behind  them  their  own  wild  forests,  with 
their  clearings  and  their  wildernesses,  their 
little  rounded  green  worlds  of  home,  embo- 
somed in  impenetrable  mysteries  of  space 
multiplied  visibly  by  the  countless  pillars  of 
the  pines. 

Before  them  Rome,  the  wonder-working 
name  which  was  a  spell  throughout  the  earth. 

They  had  indeed  passed  many  a  fair  city 
on  their  southward  way  —  from  Colonia  and 
Treves. 

But  these  were  mere  gatherings  of  ordinary 
men. 

Rome  was  the  inexhaustible  source  of  ar- 
mies, the  goal  of  all  roads  and  their  starting- 
point,  the  city  of  kings,  the  empress  of  cities, 
the  throne  of  the  empire. 

As  the  dusk  slowly  dissolved  before  the 
day,  and  the  road  ceased  to  be  the  one  dis- 
tinctly defined  object  before  them,  and  the 
evergreen  oaks  and  bays  near  at  hand  rose 
from  their  masses  of  shade  into  individual 
existence,  and  the  forms  of  distant  rocks 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  35 

and  woods  became  defined  against  the  sky, 
and  through  the  openings  of  the  hills  came 
glimpses  of  the  rolling  surges  of  the  green 
Campagna,  and  the  tremulous  shining  of  the 
far-off  sea,  the  two  watchers  strained  their 
eyes  in  the  vain  expectation  of  catching  the 
glitter  of  golden  roofs,  or  the  shimmer  of 
walls  which  must  surely  have  something  in 
them  of  a  magical  beauty  and  an  imperial 
statelinecs  different  from  all  things  else  in  the 
world. 

They  sate  gazing — the  mother  and  son — 
into  the  glory  of  the  southern  dawn.  But  no 
earthly  walls  met  their  gaze — only  the  splen- 
dor of  crimson  and  purple  clouds  and  the 
deep  golden  spaces  between. 

As  they  were  watching  the  beautiful  day 
unfold  like  a  flower,  the  silence  was  broken 
by  a  low  wail  from  a  large  building  just  be- 
coming visible  through  the  shadows  of  the 
valley  below.  A  low,  helpless  wail,  breaking 
every  now  and  then  into  a  shriek  of  agony. 

"  It  is  from  the  slave  prison  belonging  to 
the  beautiful  house  among  the  trees,"  said 
Siguna,  with  a  shudder  ;  "  some  one  is  being 
scourged  or  tortured  there.  Some  one  per- 
haps of  race  higher  than  the  master  for  whom 
he  toils." 

The  large  building  was  indeed  one  of  the 
terrible  slave-factories,  from  which  the  field- 


36  VICTORY  OF  TEE  VANQUISHED. 

work  of  the  great  Roman  estates  was  done — 
scenes  often  of  unutterable  degradation  and 
suffering,  being  also  prisons  and  places  of 
punishment  for  refractory  slaves  sent  thither 
from  the  city  households. 

The  beautiful  morning  was  still  calmly  un- 
folding in  the  sky,  and  point  after  point  of  the 
hills  was  kindling  with  her  light,  tree  after 
tree  waking  up  its  happy  birds  to  welcome 
her,  and  all  the  sweet  flowers  that  had  been 
long  ready  with  their  cups  of  dew  waiting  for 
her  sisterly  kiss  and  greeting  her  with  the 
fragrance  which  is  their  music. 

But  through  all  pierced  those  cries  of  hu- 
man pain.  It  was  long  before  the  shrieks 
died  away  again  into  the  low,  helpless  wail 
with  which  they  had  begun.  And  till  they 
had  ceased  neither  mother  nor  son  spoke. 

Then  the  boy  said, — 

"  Is  there  not  a  city  of  the  gods  above  ?  I 
used  to  think  we  caught  glimpses  of  it  at 
dawn  and  sunset.  And  that  when  the  com- 
mon working  daylight  hid  it  from  us  it  was 
still  there,  golden  and  glorious  as  ever  for  the 
gods,  shaded  by  the  Tree  of  Life,  with  the 
pure  fountains  where  they  feast  and  take 
counsel.  Is  it  true  ?  Is  there  a  city  of  the 
gods?" 

"  So  it  was  said  by  them  of  old  time,"  she 
replied. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  37 

"  Is  Asgard  then  for  the  yEsir,  as  Rome  is 
for  the  Romans  ?  And  do  the  gods  heed  the 
miseries  of  all  men  as  little  as  the  Romans 
the  miseries  of  the  Germans  ?" 

"  It  would  almost  seem  so,'!  she  said. 

"  Yet,"  he  said,  "  it  is  something  that  there 
is  one  happy  place  in  the  world,  where  all  are 
good  and  just.  In  Asgard  there  are  no  cries 
of  agony.  No  wrong  and  cruelty  to  mar  the 
feasting  there  ?" 

"  I  know  not,  my  son,"  she  replied,  mourn- 
fully. "  Who  knows  ?  Even  there,  it  is  said, 
malice,  and  pain,  and  evil  chance  are  strong. 
It  is  said  that  the  fairest  hall  in  Asgard  was 
darkened  by  the  shadow  of  death,  when  the 
best  and  the  brightest  of  all  the  gods  fell  on 
his  own  hearth,  slain  by  cunning  and  evil 
chance,  by  an  instrument  so  insignificant  none 
had  deemed  it  worth  while  to  guard  against 
it — by  the-  little  mistletoe,  sent  by  the  hand 
of  the  darkest  of  all,  the  malicious  one,  who 
was  once  a  god.  It  is  said  the  fairest  home 
in  Asgard  itself  stands  empty  and  desolate." 

"  But  hereafter,  one  day,  when  all  things 
have  been  swept  away  and  made  new  again," 
he  said,  "  after  the  storm-age,  and  the  wolf- 
age,  and  the  years  of  frost,  then  will  not  the 
just  reign,  and  death  and  malice  be  gone  ?" 

"  I  know  not,  my  son,"  she  said  ;  "  how  can 
I  know  ?  Some  say  that  the  gods  and  the  evil 


38  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

giants  will  slay  each  other  in  that  day,  and 
that  if  victory  is  with  the  gods,  it  will  be  for 
new  gods  and  new  men,  not  for  those  we 
know.  And  Death,  they  say,  can  never  be 
slain.  But  who  knows  ?  Who  can  say  which 
is  the  strongest  ? — right  or  wrong  ?  the  good 
or  the  evil  ?  light  or  darkness  ?  death  or 
life  ?  in  earth,  or  in  the  under-world,  or 
above  ?" 

"  On  earth,  there  seems  little  doubt.  Wrong 
seems  strongest  here,"  said  the  boy — "  wrong 
and  death.  The  cunning  seem  stronger  than 
the  wise,  and  the  wily  than  the  brave.  Else 
why  should  Herman  the  hero  be  wandering 
defeated  in  the  forests,  and  his  young  wife  be 
mourning  betrayed  and  helpless  here  ?  Js 
there  no  place  where  wrong  and  death  cannot 
come  ?  no  time  when  justice  and  truth  will 
rule  ?  Nowhere  a  happy  city  of  the  good  ? 
never  a  victory  for  the  light  ?  Does  no  one 
know  ?  Do  none  of  these  Romans  know  ?" 

"  They  seem  not  to  know  anything  that 
makes  them  pure  and  just,"  she  replied. 

"  Mother,"  he  murmured,  "  do  the  dead 
know  ?" 

"  They  must  know,  I  think — they  who  have 
passed  out  of  the  strife  and  the  illusions." 

"  Then  surely,"  he  said,  "  it  is  not  worth 
living,  and  it  were  better  to  die,  and  know." 

"  To  die  to  know  what,  my  son  ?"  she  said, 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  39 

with  a  quiet  hopelessness  sadder  than  the  bit- 
terest cry  of  pain. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  gently,  "  I  spoke  as  a 
coward.  For  thee  and  Hilda  it  is  worth  while 
to  live  ;  for  you  and  for  hope." 

So  they  sate,  the  mother  and  son,  as  long 
afterwards  Monica  and  Augustine,  gazing 
into  the  depths  of  the  sky. 

But  to  them  it  held  no  City  of  God,  stretch- 
ing up  the  heights  of  heaven,  with  gates  on 
earth  open  to  man ;  only  a  far-off  city  of  the 
gods,  inaccessible  to  man,  but  not  to  sin  or 
death — or  a  dim  Valhalla,  with  shadowy  repe- 
titions of  the  wars  and  feastings  of  earth,  the 
self-sacrifice  which  ennobles  wars  of  earth,  the 
home  affections  which  consecrate  its  feasts, 
left  out ;  no  Fountain  of  Life  ;  no  Just  One, 
human  to  understand  and  judge,  mighty  to 
deliver,  divine  to  forgive. 

The  universe  for  them  rested  on  no  eternal 
pillars  of  justice,  but  was  tossed  on  the  abyss 
of  frost  and  fire  from  which  it  sprang. 

Yet  in  their  inmost  hearts  rose  a  temple  in 
ruins,  yet  never  entirely  leveled  save  by  wil- 
ful hands  from  within.  Unquenchable  love, 
yearning  for  justice  and  truth,  and  undying 
hope,  were  there,  reflecting  a  light  they  could 
not  see. 

Thus  the  hour  of  waiting  passed.  The 
dawn  came  up  and  was  gone.  From  an  un- 


40  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

fathomable  sea  of  glory  the  sky  became  the 
lighted  roof  of  the  dwelling-place  of  man. 
And  the  camp  awoke  with  buzz  of  eager 
voices,  and  the  stir  of  thousands,  and  the 
din  of  arms,  to  the  day  of  the  great  triumph. 

And  all  the  while,  as  the  weary  feet  of  the 
captives  had  been  treading,  step  by  step, 
league  after  league  of  the  Roman  road,  the 
feet  of  the  Holy  and  the  Just  were  treading 
the  terraces  and  thymy  slopes  of  the  valley 
of  Nazareth. 

From  those  heavens  into  which  they  had 
been  gazing  so  hopelessly,  not  twenty  }Tears 
before,  a  great  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host 
had  burst  on  the  sight  and  hearing  of  men 
with  songs  of  peace  and  victory. 

Deep  in  the  stony  heart  of  that  magnificent 
and  corrupt  empire,  against  which  the  tribes 
of  the  north  were  breaking  their  strength, 
was  springing  up  the  little  germ  of  immortal 
life  which  was  to  shiver  the  empire  to  its 
foundations,  and  be  the  true  Tree  of  Life  to 
the  young  nations  of  the  north. 

The  whole  world  was  tremulously  astir  in 
dim  expectation  of  the  dawn.  The  whole  earth 
was  waiting  on  the  eve  of  the  Great  Triumph. 

And  the  Conqueror  was  already  there.  The 
Light  of  the  world  had  come  into  the  world. 

But  the  world  knew  Him  not. 


CHAPTER    II. 

HE  long  march  from  the  North  was 
over.      Rewards    and    honors     had 
been  assigned  to   the   soldiers  who 
had   distinguished   themselves ;    the 
accustomed  largesses  to  all  the  troops. 

The  Roman  Senate,  still  following  the  forms 
of  the  Republic,  had  met  and  welcomed  the 
army  ;  the  conqueror  had  mounted  his  chariot, 
and  the  splendid  spectacle  of  the  Triumph  of 
Germanicus  began. 

There  was  nothing  to  mar  the  outward 
splendor  and  glory  of  the  sight.  No  blots 
of  shapeless,  colorless  dress,  or  of  poor  gaudy 
color  among  the  spectators ;  no  awkward 
struggling  with  the  perplexities  of  unwonted 
costume  among  the  actors  in  the  procession  ; 
no  sense  of  incongruity  or  anachronism  in  any 
one. 

Outwardly  not  a  discord.  Priests  and  mag- 
istrates stepping  with  an  easy  dignity  in  their 
accustomed  robes,  the  flowing  folds  of  the 

(40 


42  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

white  togas  made  white  as  any  fuller  on  earth 
could  white  them,  contrasting  with  the  rich 
purple  of  the  borders,  or  the  saffron  robes  of 
the  augurs,  all  the  colors  harmonizing  as  in- 
evitably as  a  bed  of  crocuses. 

Then  came  the  bands  of  trumpeters,  with 
the  battle-music  which  more  than  any  other 
peals  clear  to  us  across  the  ages,  with  the  un- 
varying intervals  of  the  heart-stirring  calls 
which  have  to  be  heard  above  the  din  of  arms 
and  the  cries  of  conflict,  or  through  the  folds 
of  sleep. 

Next,  the  spoils  of  war,  with  symbols  and 
pictures  of  the  conquered  places,  borne  aloft. 

In  this  case  there  were  few  spoils  to  ex- 
hibit. Gold  and  silver  vessels,  embroidered 
raiment,  statue  and  picture,  were  not  to  be 
found  among  these  poor  barbarians ;  and 
models  of  cities  could  not  be  constructed 
where  the  cities  were  at  best  collections  of 
mud  huts.  This  part  of  the  procession,  there- 
fore, consisted  of  pictures  of  the  mountains 
and  rivers,  which  were  all  the  Germans  had 
to  lose,  and  of  battles,  which,  if  the  truth  had 
been  told,  they  had  not  altogether  lost.  These, 
carried  aloft  on  horizontal  trays,  with  large 
panels  on  which  were  blazoned  the  names  of 
the  tribes  said  to  be  conquered — Chatti,  Cher- 
usci,  Angrivarii  —  were  all  the  results  that 
could  be  shown.  For,  neither  were  the  beasts 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.          43 

of  the  German  forests  glorious  for  triumphal 
processions.  No  ponderous  elephants  to  be 
laden  with  barbaric  trappings,  no  grand  tawny, 
tropical  wild  beasts.  Bears  there  might  have 
been,  and  wolves, — if  the  wolf  foster-mother 
were  not  too  sacred  a  memory  to  be  dragged 
in  derision  by  the  people  of  Romulus. 

After  the  spoils  came  the  peace-music  ;  the 
band  of  flute-players  with  their  festive  sug- 
gestions of  dance  and  song. 

Next,  the  priests  with  the  sacred  white  ox- 
en, their  gilded  horns  garlanded  for  sacrifice. 

Then  the  only  tangible  spoils  of  the  Ger- 
man war,  the  captive  Germans  themselves,  a 
goodly  procession,  chained,  and  drawn  out  in 
long  files,  that  the  eyes  of  the  Roman  people 
might  feast  on  these  signs  of  the  humiliation 
of  their  foes,  a  humiliation  sweetened  by  the 
recollection  of  recent  terrors,  by  its  being  an 
avenging  of  the  legions  of  Varus,  vanquished 
and  slaughtered  by  the  fathers  of  these  cap- 
tives among  the  rivers  and  mountains  pic- 
tured in  the  front  of  the  procession. 

First  came  a  fair  young  mother  with  a  babe 
in  her  arms,  Thusnelda,  paraded  alone  in  the 
front,  that  no  eye  might  miss  her ;  yet  "  neith- 
er subdued  to  tears,  nor  using  the  language 
of  supplication ;"  the  wife  of  Herman,  so 
lately  conqueror  of  Varus. 

The  band  of  captives  was  large  and  noble. 


44          VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

It  was  perhaps  possible  for  the  spectators  to 
forget  that  neither  Herman  nor  any  of  the 
warriors  who  had  fought  by  his  side  were 
among  them,  but  only  these  women  and  chil- 
dren, not  captured  in  fair  field,  but  betrayed 
by  a  base  kinsman. 

Then,  preceded  by  the  lictors  with  laurel- 
wreathed  fasces,  in  single  file,  came  the  cha- 
riot of  the  Conqueror,  himself  a  kingly-look- 
ing man,  of  the  old  Roman  type,  the  object 
of  a  genuine  popular  enthusiasm,  unpurchased, 
and  indeed  most  jealousy  discouraged  by  the 
emperor ;  the  idol  of  the  Roman  people,  and 
worthy  .of  the  love  of  a  nobler  people  than 
they  had  sunk  to  be. 

Twenty  miles  out,  on  his  return,  out  they 
had  poured  along  the  Flaminian  Way,  in  the 
heat  of  a  Roman  May,  to  welcome  him  back. 

Pure  and  sacred  memories  of  good  women, 
worthy  of  the  Roman  ideal  days,  made  a  halo 
round  him,  the  grandson  of  the  faithful  and 
heroic  Octavia.  His  mother,  the  pure  and 
beautiful  Antonia,  still  lived.  His  own  wife, 
Agrippina,  had  shown  herself  capable  of  cour- 
ageous devotion  as  high  as  that  of  any  pa- 
triotic matron  of  the  republic,  or  of  the  heroes 
who  kept  the  bridge  "  in  the  brave  days  of 
old." 

In  those  corrupt  days  the  home  and  the 
life  of  Germanicus  were  such  as  to  kindle  a 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  45 

glow  of  affectionate  admiration  in  a  corrupt 
and  hardened  people. 

His  five  young  sons  stood  in  the  chariot 
beside  him. 

Happily  no  eye  in  the  admiring  crowd 
could  see  that  one  of  these  was  to  be  the 
Emperor  Caligula,  or  that  the  daughter  not 
there  was  to  be  the  mother  of  Nero. 

He  himself,  if  not  the  skillful  general  they 
believed  him,  was  a  brave  soldier,  and  a  com- 
mander who  inspired  his  troops  with  an  en- 
thusiasm for  his  person  such  as  only  men  of 
genuine  power  of  some  kind  can  awaken. 
Ardent  and  impulsive,  as  more  than  one  inci- 
dent in  his  life  proves  him,  the  fervor  of  his 
character  never  led  him  beyond  the  sacred 
bounds  of  duty,  such  as  he  understood  it, 
chiefly,  in  all  probability,  because  his  ambi- 
tion was  not  selfish. 

Twice,  it  is  said,  he  was  almost  on  the 
point  of  rushing,  by  his  own  act,  out  of  life. 
Once,  some  years  before,  when  he  had  quelled 
the  perilous  mutiny  which  arose,  on  the  death 
of  Augustus,  in  the  army  of  the  Rhine,  and  the 
soldiers  cried,  "  Cassar  Germanicus  will  not 
endure  to  be  a  subject,"  and  would  have  car- 
ried him  to  Rome  and  proclaimed  him  Em- 
peror in  place  of  his  adoptive  father  the  new 
Emperor  Tiberius.  To  him  the  intended  honor 
was  the  threat  of  an  impious  disgrace.  He 


46  VICTORY  Of  THE  VANQUISHED. 

had  risked  his  life  to  restore  the  legions  to 
their  duty  to  Rome.  Better  die  himself  than 
be  seduced  or  driven  from  his  duty  to  Caesar ! 

And  once  again,  a  few  months  since,  when 
many  of  his  faithful  veterans  had  been  wrecked 
on  the  North  German  coast ;  so  keen  was  his 
grief  at  their  loss  that  he  would  gladly  have 
perished  in  the  sea  beside  them.  His  soldiers' 
lives  were  dear  to  him  as  his  own  life. 

Eloquent  words  burned  naturally  on  lips 
enkindled  by  such  a  heart.  He  was  held  to 
be  a  poet  and  orator  of  no  mean  stamp. 

As  he  stood  in  the  prime  of  his  strength, 
among  his  boys,  in  the  triumphal  chariot, 
robed  in  the  embroidered  toga,  sceptred  and 
laurel-crowned,  all  Rome  did  well  to  throng 
every  inch  of  the  pavements  and  every  step 
of  the  temples  along  the  Sacred  Way  in  his 
honor,  and  to  send  up  clouds  of  incense  from 
every  altar. 

He  stood  before  them,  a  pathetic  witness 
amidst  all  their  degradation,  of  what  their 
inmost  hearts  held  good,  of  what  each  Roman 
was  meant  to  be. 

Behind  the  triumphal  chariot  marched  the 
soldiers,  shouting,  "  lo  Triumphe,"  singing 
and  jesting. 

So  the  stately  show  swept  along  the  Sacred 
Way — past  the  Forum,with  its  army  of  statues ; 
and  up  the  Capitoline  ;  past  the  temples,  with 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  47 

the  broad  flights  of  steps  crowded  with  gazers, 
the  May  sunshine  lighting  up  the  dazzling 
white  robes,  glowing  on  the  purple  and  saffron, 
flashing  back  from  brazen  spear  and  shield. 
Slowly  it  swept  up  the  old  sacred  hill  through 
air  sweet  with  the  fragrance  of  countless  fresh 
garlands  and  with  incense  from  a  thousand 
shrines,  vibrating  with  music  martial  and  fes- 
tive, and  with  the  triumphs  and  the  welcomes 
of  all  the  people  of  Rome. 

Slowly  it  swept  on,  until  at  a  point  on  the 
ascent  it  suddenly  paused.  The  German  cap- 
tives had  reached  the  state -prison  on  the 
Capitol. 

Then  from  the  fettered  band,  according  to 
ancient  Roman  custom,  were  withdrawn  some 
of  the  noblest  among  them,  never  to  reappear. 
Young  and  in  the  prime  of  strength,  with  no 
crime  but  that  of  being  enemies  of  Rome, 
they  were  led  from  the  midst  of  the  captives, 
from  the  festive  throng  and  the  May  sunshine, 
within  the  door  of  the  prison  by  the  wayside. 
And  there,  in  the  darkness  of  the  Mamertine 
dungeons,  the  exiles  were  cast  down  to  die 
unpitied,  while  all  Rome  was  keeping  holiday 
outside. 

Very  slowly  the  moments  of  that  terrible 
pause  passed  for  three  of  the  captives.  A 
deeper  pallor  spread  over  the  face  of  the 
mother  Siguna  as  she  drew  the  child  Hilda 


48  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

closer  to  her.  Siward's  brow  flushed,  and  he 
looked  round  to  see  if  there  were  one  token 
of  pity  in  the  festive  throng.  There  was  a 
slight  silence,  a  little  more  eager  pressing  for- 
ward of  the  crowd  to  see  ; — and  that  was  all. 

The  boy  heard  no  sound  of  compassion,  and 
caught  no  glance  of  pity  in  man  or  woman. 

Only  from  one  little  deformed  girl,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  pushed  near  him  in  the  throng. 
He  heard  her  ask  an  old  man  who  was  taking 
care  of  her  what  they  were  doing  with  these 
fair  boys. 

"  They  are  going  to  kill  them,  and  throw 
them  into  the  dungeons,"  he  said. 

"  But  it  is  a  festival,"  she  said  ;  "  could  they 
not  wait?" 

"  It  is  part  of  the  festivity,"  he  replied. 
"  The  Roman  people  enjoy  strong  contrasts. 
They  have  a  different  idea  of  the  drama  from 
that  which  we  Greeks  had.  They  like  their 
tragedy  real." 

The  little  maiden  looked  perplexed.  There 
was  a  quiet  bitterness  in  the  tone  of  the  slave 
which  made  Siward  glance  up  in  his  face  for 
an  explanation.  The  face  was  not  bitter. 
There  was  a  sarcastic  curve  about  the  lips, 
but  the  dark  eyes  met  the  boy's  with  a  kind- 
liness so  different  from  the  expression  of  the 
other  faces  around  him,  that  it  made  him  re- 
member the  countenance. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  49 

The  impression  was  deepened  by  what  fol- 
lowed. 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  rush  amongst 
the  crowd  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  con- 
demned captives.  In  the  pressure,  the  little 
deformed  girl  was  separated  from  the  old  man 
and  thrown  down  amidst  the  band  of  captives. 
She  might  have  been  trodden  on  and  hurt, 
but  that  Siward,  with  an  irresistible  instinct 
of  protection,  gently  lifted  her  up,  and,  fet- 
tered as  he  was,  bore  her  to  a  safe  place  on 
some  steps  by  the  wayside.  There  the  old 
man  quickly  found  and  rejoined  her,  and 
was  beginning  to  thank  him,  when,  with 
rude  words  and  blows,  the  boy  was  driven 
back  into  the  procession  which  he  had  disar- 
ranged. 

The  whole  was  the  work  of  a  moment,  but 
for  Siward  it  was  a  moment  of  balm. 

For  that  moment  the  bewildering  pomp  and 
the  bewildering  sense  of  wrong  were  lifted 
from  his  heart,  and  it  was  brought  close  to 
other  human  hearts. 

In  Rome  then,  too,  amidst  that  triumphant, 
insulting  crowd,  were  infirmity,  and  suffering, 
and  pity  ! 

The  large  soft  eyes  that  had  thanked  him 

from  the  wan,  suffering  little  face,  and  the 

words   and   tones    of   the    old    Greek   slave, 

haunted  him,  and  seemed  half  to  awaken  him 

3 


50          VICTORY  OF-  THE   VANQUISHED. 

from  a  terrible  dream.  All  the  more  because 
he  but  half  understood  them. 

He  had  great  need  of  some  such  drops  of 
healing,  for  the  day  was  bitterer  than  he  had 
thought. 

It  was  not  so  easy  to  despise  the  contempt 
and  derision  of  a  whole  people — to  be  driven 
or  dragged  chained  and  enslaved,  a  gazing- 
stock  for  thousands  of  hostile  eyes — he,  and 
his  mother,  and  the  helpless  little  sister.  Often 
he  wished  he  had  not  learned  the  Latin  tongue 
so  well  during  that  long  captivity  in  the  camp 
by  the  Rhine.  It  might  have  been  easier  not 
to  understand  the  words  of  satisfied  revenge 
or  scornful  raillery,  or,  worse  still,  of  scornful 
praise,  flung  at  them  as  at  well-made  dogs  or 
horses.  He  hoped  his  mother  did  not  hear. 
When  he  looked  at  her,  her  face  seemed 
calm. 

It  was  bitterer  than  he  had  thought.  To 
have  fought  for  his  people  and  been  fairly 
captured  could  have  been  borne ;  but  not 
easily  thus  to  be  entrapped  like  vermin,  and 
then  exhibited  as  a  fair  fruit  of  conquest,  and 
not  to  be  able  to  say  to  the  exulting  crowd,— 
"  We  were  betrayed,  we  were  not  conquered. 
If  you  had  tried  it  fairly  with  us  in  battle,  we 
or  you  should  have  been  left  on  the  field.  We 
would  never  have  been  here." 

And  worse  than  all  was  this  terrible  pause, 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  51 

the  wrenching-  of  their  brethren  from  them 
without  possibility  of  farewell  or  lamentation. 

With  a  fierce  joy  the  boy's  thoughts  went 
back  to  the  forest  of  the  Teutoberg,  to  the 
Roman  victims  slain  there  in  honor  of  the 
German  gods-1— to  the  blanched  bones  of  the 
legions  left  so  long  unburied  and  unavenged. 

Slowly,  drop  by  drop,  the  bitter  venom  dis- 
tilled into  his  heart. 

And  in  all  heaven  and  earth  there  was  noth- 
ing to  counteract  or  ward  off  the  poison- save 
the  patient  sustaining  face  of  the  mother  at 
his  side,  and  the  little  touch  of  human  sym- 
pathy which  came  to  him  through  the  eyes 
of  the  deformed  girl  and  in  the  tones  of  the 
old  slave. 

For  it  was  not  in  the  Roman  Forum  that 
men  had  erected  an  altar  to  Pity. 

In  all  the  temples  by  which  they  passed 
there  was  no  sanctuary  of  sorrow,  no  image 
of  a  Divine  Sufferer  overcoming  by  enduring. 

In  all  the  sunn)'-  heavens  through  which  he 
gazed  he  knew  of  no  judgment-seat  where 
there  was  certainty  of  justice  for  all,  far  less 
of  a  mercy-seat,  where  there  was  certainty 
of  infinite  pity  for  all. 

At  length  the  dreadful  pause  in  the  march 
was  over  ;  the  sign  was  given  that  the  execu- 
tions had  been  accomplished,  and  the  massa- 
cred captives  were  lying  dead  in  the  dark- 


52  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

ness  below  ;  and  the  splendid  show  swept  on 
again  in  the  May  sunshine,  with  the  battle 
trumpets  and  festive  flutings,  through  flow- 
ers and  incense,  to  the  Temple  of  the  Capito- 
line  Jove,  where,  beside  the  king  of  the  gods, 
the  old  god  Boundary  had  kept  his  ancient 
shrine. 

Then  came  the  sacrificing  of  oxen,  and  the 
laying  the  wreath  of  victory  on  the  lap  of  the 
statue  of  Jove. 

So  Siguna  and  her  children  trod  the  last 
steps  of  the  fatal  road,  and  finished  the  weary 
march  from  the  latest  pillar  of  the  god  Bound- 
ary among  the  forests  of  their  native  northern 
land,  to  his  earliest  shrine  on  the  rock  of  the 
Capitol. 

The  sacred  services  being  ended  in  the  tem- 
ple, the  feastings  began,  the  procession  broke 
up  into  numberless  little  knots  of  revellers, 
each  portion  of  it  coalescing  with  some  por- 
tion of  the  crowd,  eager  to  entertain  the  tri- 
umphant army,  to  listen  to  stories  of  hair- 
breadth 'scapes  among  the  unknown  northern 
seas,  whose  waves  had  risen  against  their  le- 
gions, like  some  of  the  hideous  monsters  they 
contained,  and  swallowed  up  half  an  army. 


CHAPTER   III. 


N  the  evening  of  the  Triumph  the 
boy  Siward,   having   escaped   for  a 
time  from  the  revelries  of  the  other 
slaves  of  Germanicus,  stood  leaning 
against  a  pillar  of  the  palace  portico. 

It  had  been  an  embittering  day  for  him. 
The  revelries  among  the  slaves  had  been 
worse  than  the  ignominy  of  the  procession  ; 
for  they  had  given  him  a  glimpse  into  the 
unutterable  debasement  of  the  slave-house- 
hold of  which  that  day  the  German  captives 
had  been  the  scoff  and  jest. 

If  slavery  did  not  debase  the  slave  as  well 
as  the  slave-owner,  it  must  soon  put  an  end 
to  itself.  The  slave,  purified  by  suffering, 
must  rise  above  the  master,  degraded  by  in- 
flicting it.  But  the  crudest  thing  in  cruelty 
is  its  tendency  to  make  the  sufferer  cruel. 
And  in  this  Roman  slavery  there  were  depths 
both  of  cruelty  and  degradation  scarcely  to 
be  reached  under  any  form  of  Christianity. 

(53) 


54  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

In  addition  to  his  bitter  sense  of  wrong,  the 
poor  boy  had  also  the  pain  of  sorely  bruised 
limbs,  not  made  easier  to  bear  by  the  sense 
that  he  had  brought  this  pain  on  himself. 

In  his  simplicity,  when  questioned  as  to  his 
parentage,  he  had  said  with  some  pride  that 
his  father  was  of  noble  blood,  and  worked  at 
a  smith's  forge  of  his  own  ;  the  forge  being  in 
his  mind  as  much  a  subject  to  glory  in  as  the 
noble  birth. 

The  torrent  of  derisive  witticisms  which 
this  confession  had  brought  on  the  "  patrician 
blacksmith  "  and  on  his  mother  had  altogether 
overwhelmed  the  poor  boy's  resolutions  to 
practice  silent  endurance  as  the  only  dignity 
of  the  slave.  In  a  moment  of  uncontrollable 
irritation,  he  had.  made  up  for  his  want  of 
Latin  wit  by  dealing  a  very  effective  barba- 
rian blow  against  the  most  unendurable  of  his 
tormentors,  which  had  brought  on  a  general 
assault,  ending  in  his  being  thrown  on  the 
ground,  beaten,  and  trampled  on.  Indeed, 
but  for  the  fact  of  many  of  the  assailants  being 
too  much  the  worse  for  wine  to  aim  their 
blows  well,  he  might  scarcely  have  escaped 
and  contrived  to  creep  away  under  the  shadow 
of  the  portico  as  he  had  done. 

He  had  not  been  resting  there  long  when 
the  sound  of  flutes  and  pipes  echoed  along 
the  slopes  of  the  Palatine,  and  in  a  few  mo- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  55 

ments  the  torch-bearers  came  in  sight  of  the 
palace,  bringing  Germanicus  back  with  songs 
and  shouts  to  his  home. 

The  captive  boy  shrank  farther  into  the 
shadow.  For  a  few  minutes  the  laurel-gar- 
landed portico  echoed  with  congratulations 
and  leave-takings.  Then  Germanicus  retired 
within  the  house,  the  festive  band  gradually 
dispersed,  the  blaze  of  torches  died  out  one 
by  one  in  the  distance,  and  Siward  was  left 
alone  with  the  stars. 

At  last  that  bitter  day  had  worn  to  its  close  ! 
The  day  of  ignominy  was  over,  he  thought, 
for  the  captives,  and  the  life  of  bondage  and 
suffering  had  begun.  For  Germanicus,  the 
.day  of  triumph  was  over,  and  the  life  of  glo- 
rious power  and  activity  was'  but  beginning  ! 
How  wide  apart  the  beginning  of  the  two 
roads  led  !  "  How  much  wider,"  the  poor 
boy  thought,  recalling  with  a  shudder  the 
slave-revelers  from  whom  he  had  escaped, 
and  the  wail  from  the  slave-prison  among  the 
hills,  "might  not  the  end  be!  What  could 
he  do  but  grow  brutish  or  wicked  like  the 
rest,  and  perhaps  by  and  by  be  as  cruel  to 
some  new  sufferer  as  they  had  been  to  him  ?" 
A  terrjjble  sense  of  being  destined,  not  only 
to  suffer,  but  to  sink  through  suffering,  was 
on  him ;  of  a  curse  which  reached  not  only 
to  the  body  but  to  the  soul.  These  brutish 


56          VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

bondsmen  around  him  had  sunk  beneath  it. 
What  hand  in  heaven  or  on  earth  could  save 
him  ? 

The  love  which  was  a  torch  kindled  by  the 
love  he  knew  not,  came  once  more  to  his 
rescue. 

The  mother's  gentle  hand  rested  on  his 
drooping  head.  He  knew  her  touch  although 
he  did  not  at  once  look  up.  But  the  ice  be- 
gan to  melt  from  his  heart,  and  slow  burning 
tears  fell  through  the  fingers  clasped  on  his 
brow. 

"  My  son,"  she  said,  "  you  have  done  bravely 
to  day." 

He  shook  his  head. 

She  had  not  witnessed  the  scene  among  the 
slave-revelers.  -He  thought  she  did  not  know, 
and  he  would  not  for  the  world  have  told  her. 

"  Siward,"  she  continued,  "  your  words  in 
the  dawn  on  the  hillside  strengthened  me  to- 
day. I  did  walk  like  a  crowned  queen  be- 
tween my  children." 

The  hidden  tears  fell  slower,  but  more  bit- 
terly. "  Little  reason  had  she,"  he  thought, 
"  to  feel  proud  of  her  poor  helpless,  beaten, 
slave-boy." 

"  Siward,"  she  went  on,  "  I  have  had  a  great 
proposal  for  you  to-day.  A  Roman  patrician 
lady  saw  you  to-day  in  the  procession,  and 
she  and  her  husband  coveted  you.  They 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  57 

asked  our  Lady  Agrippina  about  you.  They 
have  no  son,  and  they  want  to  adopt  you  for 
their  own.  Once  they  thought  they  had  too 
many  children,  and,  according  to  one  of  their 
wicked  customs,  they  cast  out  their  own  help- 
less babes  to  die,  that  they  might  have  no 
more  trouble  with  them.  But  a  pestilence 
came  and  swept  away  those  they  had  saved. 
Now,  they  have  no  child  but  one,  who  is  a 
virgin  priestess  of  some  goddess,  and  one  a 
sickly  mis-shapen  girl,  who  was  rescued  by  a 
Greek  slave.  And  the  Roman  lady  envied 
me  as  I  walked  beside  you,  my  son,  and  wishes 
to  adopt  you  for  her  own,  and  to  call  you  by 
their  name,  Clcelius." 

He  looked  up. 

"  I  am  Siward  the  son  of  Siguna  and  Olave 
the  smith,"  he  said.  "  They  can  make  me 
their  slave,  I  will  never  call  myself  the  son 
of  a  Roman  woman  and  a  murderess.  I  am 
thy  son,  mother,  thine." 

She  said  nothing.  She  had  expected  no- 
thing else.  But  with  that  free  determination 
of  the  will,  the  bondage  had  passed  from  his 
soul. 

Battered  and  bruised  as  he  was,  the  sense 
re-awoke  within  him  of  being  something  blows 
could  not  crush,  nor  fetters  bind.  His  inmost 
self  was  free  with  the  only  freedom  worth 
having — the  freedom  of  loving  and  choosing, 


58  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  choosing  rather  to  suffer  anything  than  to 
desert  those  whom  he  loved. 

Not  that  he  reasoned  this  out,  or  could  have 
spoken  of  the  immortal  invisible  spirit  within. 
What  he  was  conscious  of  was  not  of  having 
a  soul,  but  of  having  a  mother  whom  he 
loved. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "  you  had  no  hesitation 
about  the  answer." 

"  Not  any,"  she  replied  ;  "  we  could  not 
give  up  your  father's  name." 

"  And  I  would  not  grow  like  these  Romans," 
he  said.  "  Better  be  their  slave  than  be  them- 
selves, mother,"  he  added,  after  a  pause.  "  I 
have  seen  and  heard  terrible  things  to-day ; 
and  I  have  had  a  terrible  dread.  But  you 
have  saved  me." 

"  Dread  of  what  ?"  she  said. 

"  Of  growing  like  these  Romans  and  their 
slaves  !"  he  said.  "  Of  growing  to  despise  all 
women  as  if  I  had  never  had  a  mother ;  to 
disbelieve  in  all  goodness,  as  if  I  had  never 
known  you  ;  to  be  ashamed  of  work  ;  to  dis- 
honor all  that  makes  men  men  and  women 
women ;  the  terror  of  sinking  through  the 
pleasures  of  swinish  beasts  reveling  in  garb- 
age and  wallowing  in  the  mire,  to  the  plea- 
sures of  wild  beasts  reveling  in  the  torture  of 
their  victims,  as  these  Romans  do  in  their 
games,  and  (if  the  slaves  speak  truth)  in  their 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  59 

homes.  But  this  dread  is  gone  ;  you  have 
come  and  saved  me." 

"  What  have  I  done  ?"  she  said  ;  "  what  can 
I  do?" 

"  You  have  done  what  Siguna  the  wife  of 
Loki  did.  Surely  it  was  a  prophetess  who 
named  thee,"  he  said.  "  When  the  gods  had 
bound  him  fast,  and  the  serpent  had  dropped 
venom,  did  not  Siguna  hold  the  cup  so  that 
the  serpent's  venom  could  not  drop  on  him, 
and  burn  into  his  heart  ?  The  cup  is  your 
heart,  mother,  and  you  have  saved  me." 

"Child,"  she  said,  "what  are  you  saying; 
you  are  not  Loki  the  malignant ;  you,  my 
brave,  bright  boy  ?" 

"No,"  he  said,  smiling,  "I  am  not  Loki. 
Stay  thou  near  me,  and  I  will  never  be  like 
him." 

So  the  boy  interpreted  the  lovely  legend  of 
Loki  and  Siguna.*  For  dark  as  were  those 
old  heathen  conceptions  of  the  gods,  often  on 
some  subordinate  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
picture,  falls  a  strange  beautiful  light  from  a 
source  unseen  and  unexplained. 

The   gods  were  often   hard  and   cruel,  or 

*  It  is  not  meant  to  intimate  by  this  that  this  legend  or 
other  Northern  legends  alluded  to  in  these  pages  were  as 
ancient  as  the  first  century.;  but  to  take  them  as  types  of 
the  belief  and  imagination  from  which  at  one  time  or  an- 
other the  Northern  Sagas  sprang. 


60  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

careless  and  cold.  But  in  some  human  crea- 
ture, such  as  Siguna,  burns  a  little  lowly  spark 
of  unquenchable  love,  or  invincible  patience, 
stronger  and  more  divine,  lovelier  and  loftier 
than  all  the  might  of  Asgard  or  Olympus. 

For  throughout  those  ages  while  men  made 
the  gods,  it  was  God  who  made  man. 

The  mother  went  into  the  house  and  found  a 
mat  and  an  old  mantle,  in  which  she  wrapped 
up  her  boy's  bruised  limbs  ;  and  soon  he  fell 
asleep  with  the  sleep  of  youth. 

But  she  watched  above  him  and  wept.  For 
very  feeble  she  felt  her  hands  to  be  to  keep 
off  the  poisonous  drops.  Feeble  woman's 
hands,  and  fettered,  and  who  could  say  how 
long  the  gods,  or  the  Romans  who  seemed 
their  favorites  and  vicegerents  on  earth,  would 
allow  even  this  ? 

So  she  looked  hopelessly  up  to  the  calm, 
bright  stars,  and  the  beautiful  impenetrable 
night.  But  she  soon  ceased  to  weep.  For 
there  was  no  heart  to  appeal  to,  or  to  weep  on. 
If  there  were  gods  above  those  stars,  either, 
for  some  unknown  offence  they  had  turned 
against  her,  or  they  did  not  rule  as  far  south 
as  Rome,  or  the  gods  of  Rome  were  stronger, 
or,  which  was  perhaps  the  most  likely  thing 
of  all,  they  were  shining  still  in  Asgard,  bright 
and  calm  as  the  stars,  and  as  inaccessible. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  6 1 

The  wail  could  not  rise  into  prayer,  there- 
fore it  died  into  despairing  silence.  Yet  Si- 
guna  and  Siward,  the  German  captives,  were 
not  the  only  persons  in  Rome  to  whom  that 
day  had  been  little  of  a  festival. 

In  his  new  palace  on  the  western  slopes  of 
the  Palatine  was  dwelling  one  to  whose  heart 
every  shout  of  applause  to  Germanicus  had 
been  a  drop  of  the  bitterest  venom.  And  by 
him  on  the  icy  summit  where  he  sat  was  no 
faithful  hand  to  ward  off  the  bitter  drops. 

From  youth,  Tiberius  Cassar  had  breathed 
the  atmosphere  of  desecrated  home.  His  mo- 
ther, the  Empress  Livia,  had  consented  to  be 
divorced  from  his  father  to  share  the  throne 
of  Augustus.  He  himself  had  reluctantly 
consented  to  abandon  Vipsania,  the  beloved 
wife  of  his  youth,  sister  of  Agrippina  the 
noble  wife  of  Germanicus,  to  become  the  hus- 
band of  Julia,  the  only  daughter  of  Augustus, 
a  woman  who  despised  him,  and  whom  not 
without  reason  he  hated  ;  for  her  crimes, 
afterwards  banished  by  her  own  father  to  the 
fatal  island  of  Pandataria. 

The  bonds  between  him  and  his  mother, 
strong  as  they  were,  were  not  such  as  to  soften 
or  hallow  life.  On  her  side  rather  a  dramatic 
impersonation  than  affection,  accomplishing 
in  her  son  an  ambition  she  could  not  fulfil  in 
her  own  person.  On  his,  a  habit  of  deference 


62  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

to  her  authority  and  reverence  to  her  judg- 
ment which  nothing  but  death  could  break, 
but  from  which  he  felt  her  death  an  emanci- 
pation ;  identification  of  interest  without  union 
of  heart. 

The  sacred  fire  of  his  hearth  being  to  him 
thus  early  extinguished,  in  its  place  was  sub- 
stituted a  steel  mirror,  in  which  the  world 
was  reflected  with  exactness,  but  altogether 
without  glow, — the  world  and  himself. 

Where  the  world,  gazing  within  wall  after 
wall  of  his  imperial  palace,  and  fold  within 
fold  of  his  purple  draperies,  caught  glimpses 
of  a  mysterious  divinity ;  he  saw  an  imperil- 
led mortal  "  holding  the  Roman  people  as  a 
wolf  by  the  ears." 

On  the  icy  summit  where  the  dazzled  na- 
tions saw  a  godlike  form  gloriously  robed  and 
crowned,  grasping  the  lightnings,  he,  chill 
and  undazzled,  saw  himself  as  he  was,  unillu- 
mined  by  the  splendor,  quivering  beneath  the 
lightnings  he  seemed  to  grasp.  He  knew 
that  he  saw  but  a  little  space  beyond  him, 
whilst  within  that  little  space  he  saw  a  world 
of  perils,  and  beyond  it  a  surging  mist  through 
which  from  time  to  time  loomed  on  his  anx- 
ious vision  the  forms  of  men  greater  than  he 
threatening  to  rise  and  hurl  him  from  his  seat. 
At  the  centre  of  that  omnipotent  dominion  he 
knew  himself  to  be  a  mortal  man,  and  not  a 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  63 

great  man.  Honestly  therefore  he  recom- 
mended all  men  not  to  worship  him :  whilst 
he  watched  with  suspicious  vigilance  for  ev- 
ery token  of  a  real  great  man,  one  "  born  a 
king,"  that  like  Herod  he  might  "  come  and 
worship  him," — in  Herod's  fashion. 

At  the  core  of  that  Empire  was  a  heart  in 
which  hope  and  love,  and  faith  in  woman,  in 
man,  or  in  heaven,  were  frozen  to  death ;  a 
heart  not  cruel  for  cruelty's  sake,  but  pos- 
sessed by  an  ignoble  fear  and  self-distrust,  a 
cynical  contempt  of  all  who  did  him  homage, 
and  a  desperate  envious  hatred  of  all  whom 
his  keen  wit  perceived  were  too  clear-sighted 
or  too  noble  to  do  him  real  homage  in  their 
hearts.  At  this  time  the  great  objects  of  his 
dread  and  envy  were  Caesar  Germanicus  and 
Agrippina,  whom  his  mother  Livia  also  en- 
vied and  disliked,  and  of  whose  lofty  charac- 
ter, disbelieving  in  any  noble  source  of  such 
loftiness,  Tiberius  had  an  especial  distrust. 

To  the  emperor,  therefore,  this  day  of  the 
Triumph  of  Germanicus  had  been  a  day  of 
humiliation.  Not  on  account  of  the  pomp 
whose  hollowness  he  knew,  but  because  he 
saw  how  the  Roman  people,  the  wolf  whom 
he  held  so  desperately  by  the  ears,  fawned 
with  as  fond  a  pride  as  the  wolf  foster-mother 
herself  on  the  genial  young  soldier,  nephew 
of  Augustus,  grandson  of  Octavia  and  Antony. 


64  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Nor  to  Germanicus  himself  (had  the  Ger- 
man captive  known  it  as  he  saw  him  disap- 
pear within  the  portico?)  had  that  day  been 
any  more  a  true  triumph  than  to  any  fettered 
captive  in  the  procession. 

He  had  been  dragged  in  his  triumphal 
chariot  as  reluctantly  as  Thusnelda  herself 
before  it. 

Victory  was  what  he  had  desired,  not  a 
hollow  show  of  triumph.  One  campaign 
more  in  Germany,  he  believed,  would  have 
made  him  a  true  conqueror,  would  have 
driven  back  the  German  tribes  effectually, 
and  made  the  short  line  of  the  Elbe,  instead 
of  the  long  windings  of  the  Rhine,  the  real 
frontier  of  the  Empire. 

From  this  career  of  conquest  he  had  been 
torn,  from  purposes  he  deemed  worthy  of 
Roman  ambition — "  through  envy  torn  away 
from  a  harvest  of  ripe  glory" — to  be  detached 
for  ever  from  the  army  which  loved  him,  and 
for  which  he  had  cared  with  a  true  kingly 
care,  and  despatched  hither  and  thither  at  the 
will  of  a  man  who  would  only  envy  and  hate 
him  the  more  successfully  he  served  him. 

To  him  and  to  Agrippina — taken  from  her 
queenly  place  at  the  head  of  the  veterans  who 
honored  her  as  a  matron  of  old  Rome,  and 
lovjed  her  boys  with  a  household  affection  as 
at  once  their  princes  and  playfellows,  to  be 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  65 

entangled  in  the  wretched  intrigues  of  a  court 
where  a  slight  to  her  was  regarded  as  a  com- 
pliment to  the  emperor's  mother — that  day 
was  an  evening,  not  a  morning,  a  stepping 
from  a  high  place  in  a  free,  large  world  into 
the  narrow  tortuous  ways  about  a  degraded 
court. 

No  day  of  rejoicing  to  the  conqueror,  nor 
to  the  faithful  troops  he  had  led  so  long ! 
They  had  not  forgotten  the  day,  years  since, 
when  the  young  Germanicus  had  won  them 
back  from  mutiny  by  his  presence,  when  they 
had  gathered  around  him  with  their  wrongs, 
showing  him  the  limbs  bruised  and  wounded 
by  the  cruelty  of  under-officers,  and  pressing 
his  hands  on  their  toothless  gums  to  prove  by 
how  long  years  of  service  they  had  merited  a 
better  reward  ;  nor  how  he  had  soothed  them 
with  promises,  and  with  largesses  from  his 
own  private  means,  a  royal  generosity  which 
Tiberius  could  not  forgive. 

Nor  would  they  forget  the  day  not  long 
afterwards  when  once  more  he  had  shamed 
them  back  to  order  and  allegiance,  by  threat- 
ening to  withdraw  Agrippina  and  the  Roman 
ladies  from  the  mutinous  camp  to  the  protec- 
tion of  the  German  allies  at  Treves. 

The  armies  of  Rome,  after  all,  were  them- 
selves no  such  iron  machines  as  they  seemed, 
but  aggregates  of  impressible  human  crea- 


66  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

tures  —  assemblies  of  impulsive  passionate 
Italians,  keen  to  feel  wrongs  and  to  resent 
them,  capable  of  loving  and  trusting  with  ro- 
mantic devotion"  when  they  found  any  one 
like  Germanicus,  a  man  of  like  passion  with 
themselves,  yet  of  keener  insight  and  higher 
self-control  than  themselves,  with  a  heart  to 
care  for  them. 

And  now  this  strong,  slowly-woven  bond 
was  to  be  rent  asunder  for  ever.  This  body 
of  living  men,  enthusiastically  attached  to  a 
commander,  was  to  become  again,  outwardly, 
a  machine  of  state,  and  inwardly  a  conglom- 
eration of  separate  atoms. 

To  Germanicus  and  his  army  it  was  a  day 
of  separation.  The  army  dispersed  among 
the  citizens,  once  more  a  mere  fragment  of 
the  empire.  The  conquering  commander  re- 
tired into  his  home  a  mere  slave  of  the  em- 
peror. 

And  sadly  that  night,  in  the  homes  of  many 
a  patrician  palace,  among  its  gardens  on  the 
hills  of  Rome: — and  in  many  of  the  crowded 
chambers  of  the  people  whose  tall  houses  rose 
from  the  valleys  below — among  the  few  in 
that  degraded  population  to  whom  the  tri- 
umph was  anything  higher  than  one  of  the 
shows  of  the  circus  or  the  amphitheatre,  came 
back  the  memory  of  Drusus,  father  of  Ger- 
manicus ;  and  Marcellus,  his  uncle ;  and  of 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  67 

Julius  Cassar,  first  and  noblest  of  the  race, 
throwing  its  shadow  on  the  future  of  one 
who,  as  the  despairing  presentiment  of  a  cor- 
rupted and  enslaved  people  told  them,  was 
too  worthy  of  life  to  live  long  in  such  a  time. 

"  For  ever,"  they  said,  "  short-lived  and  un- 
fortunate are  those  whom  the  Roman  people 
love." 

Thus,  in  the  laughter  of  that  day  of  triumph 
there  was  heaviness,  and  its  songs  died  into  a 
hopeless  wail  in  other  hearts  than  those  of 
the  German  captives. 

And  neither  they  nor  any  of  the  countless 
sufferers  in  that  glittering,  brilliant,  hopeless 
Roman  world  knew  of  the  heart  that  was 
beating  for  them  in  the  home  at  Nazareth,  the 
heart  of  Him,  indeed,  "  born  a  king,"  in  which 
fear  had  no  place,  glowing  but  with  faith  and 
hope,  and  with  unquenchable  love  for  all ;  nor 
what  cup  was  being  prepared  to  gather  into 
itself  the  venom  of  all  the  bitter  drops,  and 
ward  them  off  from  man. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

N  the  dusk  of  the  May  morning  a 
young  Roman  maiden  stood  on  the 
brink  of  a  spring  on  the  Coelian  hill, 
in  the  garden  of  Clcelius  Tullus.  She 
stood,  or  half  leant  against  the  rock,  from  be- 
neath which  the  pure  fresh  water  was  slowly 
trickling  into  her  pitcher.  Slight  and  lithe  in 
form,  from  the  firm  poise  of  the  graceful  head 
to  the  planting  of  the  small  sandalled  feet, 
which  shone  on  the  dark  mossy  turf  below 
the  long  white  stole,  there  was  nevertheless  a 
power  blended  with  all  the  grace  which  encir- 
cled her  with  a  kind  of  sweet  awe.  The  joy- 
ous half-smiling  lips,  the  dreamy  dark  eyes, 
which  sent  a  light  through  the  long  lashes 
like  the  morning  sunshine  on  the  pure  shaded 
spring  she  was  watching ;  the  hands  folded 
not  in  lassitude,  but  with  a  firm  clasp,  as  if  they 
had  embraced  each  other  with  a  happy  pur- 
pose, and  would  only  part  to  help  each  other 
to  execute  it ;  the  whole  guileless  expression 

(68) 


VICTOR?  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  69 

of  the  face,  full  of  soul  as  it  was,  seemed  more 
childlike  than  womanly.  The  look  of  extreme 
youth  was  increased  by  the  absence  of  long 
feminine  tresses,  and  of  all  feminine  ornament. 
The  hair,  of  a  golden  brown,  curled  and  clus- 
tered around  the  small  head  like  a  child's, 
and  was  only  bound  with  a  purple  fillet. 

Yet  there  was  a  majesty  about  the  light 
delicate  form  and  on  the  smooth  straight 
brows.  No  mere  imperial  stateliness,  some- 
thing higher  and  freer — something  to  which 
any  canopy  of  state  would  have  seemed  a 
tawdry  appendage — something  which  in  any 
temple  of  her  gods  would  have  made  you  feel 
it  a  sanctuary. 

There  was  a  slight  rustle  among  the  ilexes 
of  the  garden,  and  then  a  younger  maiden, 
kneeling  down  before  her,  embraced  her  knees 
as  if  she  had  been  the  statue  of  a  goddess. 

"My  beautiful!"  said  the  child,  "you  are 
more  divine  than  ever.  No  wonder  they  do 
not  need  any  sacred  images  in  the  temple 
where  you  serve." 

The  maiden  stooped,  and,  raising  the  kneel- 
ing child,  encircled  her  with  one  arm. 

"  Poor  little  sister  !"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
was  simply  the  embodiment  of  her  smile  turn- 
ed into  music.  The  ring  of  a  little  child's 
laughter  was  in  it,  with  the  tenderness  of  a 
heavenly  pity.  For  different,  indeed,  to  all 


70  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

outward  seeming,  from  herself  was  the  poor 
misshapen  child  who  clung  to  her  with  such 
an  adoring,  passionate  fondness.  The  form 
that  of  a  shrunken  old  woman  ;  the  face  thin 
and  wan,  though  not  without  beauty  ;  the 
eyes  deep  with  the  sadness  of  a  sorrowful  wo- 
manhood. 

"  To-day  is  a  great  day  with  me,  little  sis- 
ter," said  the  elder  maiden,  "  and  I  may  well 
be  clothed  with  joy.  Yesterday  completed 
the  ten  years  of  my  discipleship.  This  day 
ten  years  since  our  father  led  me  to  the  High 
Priest,  and  the  old  man  welcomed  me  to  the 
service  of  Rome  and  the  goddess,  and  conse- 
crated me  as  the  vestals  of  our  ancient  Alba 
were  consecrated  hundreds  of  years  before 
Rome  was  born.  '  Thee,  beloved,  I  take,'  he 
said,  '  a  vestal  priestess,  to  minister  in  sacred 
things,  to  do  for  the  Roman  people  what  the 
best  law  has  appointed.'  And  so,  a  little  child, 
I  was  committed  Jto  the  care  of  the  sacred 
virgins,  and  had  henceforth  for  my  dwelling 
the  dwelling  of  the  goddess,  for  my  hearth- 
fire  the  sacred  hearth-fire  of  Rome. 

"  Ten  years  of  training,  slowly  unfolding 
before  me  the  meaning  of  that  consecration, 
and  now  I  too  am  to  serve  Rome  for  myself. 
This  morning,  for  the  first  time,  I  shall  sprin- 
kle pure  water  on  the  shrine  of  the  goddess. 
To-night,  for  the  first  time,  to  me  will  be 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  71 

committed  the  charge  of  the  sacred  fire,  to 
keep  it  for  the  Roman  people,  for  the  god- 
dess, and  for  our  Rome. 

"  Little  sister,  have  I  not  reason  to  be  glad  ?" 
As  she  spoke  she  looked  up.  From  the 
southern  slopes  of  the  hill  where  they  stood 
among  the  gardens,  beyond  the  undulating 
plain  of  the  Campagna,  still  dusk,  the  dawn 
was  flowing  in  a  golden  flood  around  the  Al- 
ban  hills.  Peak  after  peak  rose  boldly  from 
the  plain,  and  as  she  glanced  towards  them  at 
that  moment  a  rosy  light  touched  the  highest 
of  all,  the  site  of  the  ancient  temple  of  Jupiter 
Latiaris,  the  common  shrine  of  the  pristine 
Latin  race. 

"  See,  little  sister,"  she  said,  "the  finger  of 
the  gods  is  touching  the  old  temple  of  our  fa- 
thers. Beneath  it  is  lying  in  its  deep  hollow 
the  Alban  lake,  and  the  ridge  of  the  White 
City  where  our  people  were  cradled,  and  the 
vestal  princess  dwelt,  and  the  twin  heroes 
were  born.  Here  is  the  marshy  valley  which 
the  prince  our  forefather  drained, — the  dic- 
tator, Clcelius,  —  making  the  marshy  land  a 
fruitful  field,  and  bringing  the  water  to  re- 
fresh the  arid  plain.  The  ancient  channel  is 
there  which  our  father  cut  through  the  solid 
hills,  and  the  waters  are  flowing  through  it 
still — in  the  dark  under  the  rock  arches,  in 
the  sunshine  through  the  green  Campagna, 


72  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

below  us  through  the  valley  at  our  feet — wa- 
ters from  our  Alban  hills,  brought  hither  to 
minister  to  the  Roman  people. 

"  Little  sister,  last  night  the  gods  sent  me  a 
dream.  Since  the  days  of  the  Clcelius,  who 
made  the  water  flow,  when  our  Alba  was 
razed,  and  our  fathers  were  transplanted  to 
this  Coelian  hill,  and  the  Cloelii  became  a  Ro- 
man house, — once  again,  thou  knowest,  our 
name  has  had  a  high  place  in  the  story  of  old 
Rome. 

"  When  Lars  Porsenna,  the  Etruscan  king, 
with  his  armies  on  the  Janiculum,  had  driven 
the  Romans  to  submit,  and  to  send  him  the 
ivory  throne,  and  twenty  hostages,  boys  and 
maidens  of  the  noblest  blood,  a  virgin,  Clce- 
lia,  was  among  them.  She  swam  back  through 
the  river,  escaping  the  foe,  leading  the  other 
girls,  and  fled  safely  to  Rome.  But  to  the 
Romans,  our  fathers,  the  faith  of  oaths  was 
dearer  than  life,  or  things  dearer  than  life, 
and  they  sent  the  maidens  back.  Noble  deeds 
breed  nobler.  Porsenna  the  king  honored  the 
maiden,  and  honored  the  Roman  fidelity,  and 
sent  her  back  to  Rome  with  some  of  the  host- 
ages as  the  fruit  of  her  courage,  bidding  her 
choose  which  she  would.  The  girl  Clcelia  had 
a  mother's  heart  in  her,  as  all  good  women 
have,  and  she  had  pity  on  the  helpless  little 
ones,  and  chose  them.  So  the  king  gave  her  a 


VICTORY  OF  TUB    VANQUISHED.  73 

horse  with  royal  trappings,  and  she  rode  home 
to  the  city  Rome.  A  fair  sight  it  must^have 
been  to  our  fathers  to  see  the  young  maiden 
coming  back  as  a  conqueror,  on  the  king's 
horse,  with  the  little  children  she  had  rescued 
clustering  around  her.  Her  people  would  not 
have  the  beautiful  vision  fade  away.  They 
made  her  a  statue,  and  there  it  stands  to  this 
day  in  the  Sacred  Way.  The  Sacred  Pro- 
"cessions  pass  by  it,  and  the  triumphs,  as  yes- 
terday— by  the  statue  of  Cloelia,  the  maiden 
who  rescued  the  captive  children,  seated  on 
the  horse  Lars  Porsenna  gave  her. 

"  There  are  many  lonely  hours  in  the  tem- 
ple, little  sister ;  the  dreams,  and  the  toys,  and 
the  decorations  of  other  maidens  are  not  for 
us.  And  often  as  I  sat  weaving  the  sacred 
veils  for  the  shrine,  or  in  the  night,  I  have 
pictured  to  myself  those  two,  of  our  blood, 
who  belonged  to  our  house  of  old,  until  last 
night,  through  the  golden  gates,  the  gods 
sent  me  a  dream. 

"  Clcelia,  the  brave  maiden,  came  to  me  as 
I  slept  —  not  on  horseback,  as  the  princely 
heroine,  but  clad  in  a  plain  white  stole,  with 
a  little  child  clinging  to  each  hand — and  she 
said  to  me, — 

" '  Clcelia,  my  sister,  Vestal,  thou  shalt  be 
as  the  stream  our  father  brought  from  Alba, 
the  White  City  on  the  hills.  Thy  life  shall  be 
4 


74          VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

a  sacred  stream,  flowing  for  the  service  of  the 
gods  and  of  Rome.  To-morrow  thy  days  flow 
forth  into  the  sunshine,  from  the  cool  shadow 
of  the  rock  arches,  where  they  have  been  kept 
pure.  Forth  into  the  sunshine,  on  through 
the  City  Rome.  They  may  make  thee  no 
statue  in  the  Sacred  Way  ;  thou  mayst  never 
hear  the  praise  of  the  people,  nor  feel  the  fond 
clinging  of  the  children  thou  art  saving.  But 
what  recks  that  ?  Statues  crumble  to  dust, 
and  the  praise  of  the  people  is  a  breath.  The 
work  is  real,  and  thou  wilt  do  it.  Thou  wilt 
keep  the  sacred  charge  for  Rome.'  " 

The  maiden  ceased.  Her  pitcher  was  over- 
flowing :  she  stooped  to  take  it  up,  and  go 
her  way.  But  first  she  clasped  the  poor  child 
to  her  heart. 

"  Rejoice  with  me,  little  sister,"  she  said, 
"for  my  beautiful  dream  has  come  true.  To- 
day I  begin  the  service  of  Vesta  and  of  Rome. 
This  morning  I  have  come  hither  to  fetch 
fresh  water  to  sprinkle  on  her  shrine  ;  for  no 
water  save  pure  from  the  heart  of  mother- 
earth  must  touch  the  altar  of  the  Sacred  Fire. 
I  would  not  draw  it  to-day  from  the  ancient 
grotto  of  Egeria  on  the  slopes  below.  They 
have  imprisoned  the  fountain,  and  shut  it  out 
from  the  sunlight  under  heavy  porticoes. 
Moreover,  Jews,  dwell  around  it — the  people 
who  are  said  to  hate  all  men — and  I  would 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  75 

not  have  an  evil  eye  on  me  to-day.  Where- 
fore I  have  come  hither  to  the  little  rock- 
spring  in  our  old  garden,  where  I  used  to 
play  when  I  was  a  little  child.  I  hoped,  too, 
to  see  thee.  Rejoice  with  me,  little  sister. 
To-day  I  begin  the  sacred  priesthood.  To- 
day my  life  flows  forth  from  the  shadow  of 
the  rock  arches  into  the  sunshine,  to  serve 
our  Rome." 

"  My  beautiful,  I  do  rejoice  in  thee,"  the 
child  replied.  But  then,  turning  away,  and 
bursting  into  tears,  she  sobbed — "  Oh,  Clcelia 
Pulchra,  my  sister,  ask  thy  gods  to  have  some 
pity  on  me.  To  me  they  have  given  nothing 
beautiful  or  good.  My  mother  is  ashamed  of 
me,  and  never  walks  out  with  me.  My  father 
is  kind,  and  likes  to  hear  me  sing  ;  but  I  am 
no  joy  to  him,  no  joy  to  him  nor  to  any.  I 
am  no  sweet  stream  of  life  like  thee  ; — but 
only  a  marsh — a  waste,  unsightly,  unwhole- 
some marsh." 

The  young  priestess  sat  down  on  the  mossy 
bank,  and  drew  the  child  to  her,  tenderly  ca- 
ressing her,  and  smoothing  the  long  tresses 
of  her  raven  hair. 

"Dear,"  she  said,  "this  is  not  like  thee. 
Was  I  thoughtless  to  parade  before  thee  a 
joy  thou  canst  not  share?  Then  it  is -thy 
love  which  led  me  away.  I  thought  all  mine 
was  thine.  What  beauty  or  joy  I  have,  was 


76  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

it  not  always  thy  joy  ? — thou  whose  heart  is 
so  much  more  beautiful  and  stronger  than 
mine.  And  art  not  thou  a  joy  to  me,  as  I  to 
thee  ?  Have  I  not  delighted  in  thy  wisdom 
and  goodness,  in  all  the  wise  things  old  Laon 
has  taught  thee,  and  in  that  great  love  of 
thine  for  me  ?  Was  I  wrong  to  forget  all  but 
thy  love,  in  thee,  to-day  ?" 

"  Not  wrong,"  sobbed  the  child,  but  more 
quietly.  "  Never  wrong,"  she  added,  with  a 
sudden  light  irradiating  her  face,  "  to  trust 
my  love  ;  only  wrong  to  trust  my  wisdom  and 
my  goodness." 

Then,  hiding  her  face  and  her  heaving 
breast  on  her  sister's  heart — '<  Oh,  Clcelia,  my 
beautiful,"  she  said,  "  I  never  found  it  all  out 
till  yesterday  at  the  Triumph.  I  was  pushed 
down  and  trodden  on  in  the  crowd,  and  must 
have  been  hurt,  perhaps  killed,  if  one  of  the 
captives,  a  young  German,  had  not  lifted  me 
up  in  his  fettered  arms,  and  placed  me  on 
some  steps  by  the  wayside,  as  tenderly  as  a 
mother  could.  But  when  I  looked  up  to 
thank  him,  I  could  see  disgust  struggling 
with  divine  pity  in  his  eyes  ;  for  he  was  beau- 
tiful as  one  of  the  Greek  gods — as  the  sun- 
god,  beautiful  and  strong.  I  would  thou 
couldst  see  him.  And  the  people  were  angry 
that  the  procession  had  been  broken  ;  and 
they  called  me  a  hunchback,  a  dwarf,  and 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  77 

many  hideous  names.  And  all  at  once  it 
flashed  upon  me  that  it  is  true,  and  why  it  is 
that  my  mother  never  takes  me  by  her  side 
to  walk  with  her,  and  my  father  looks  so  sadly 
at  me.  Oh,  Cloelia,  my  sister,  I  understand  it 
all  now  !  Would  to  Heaven  the  German  boy 
had  never  rescued  me,  but  that  I  had  been 
trampled  under  his  feet  and  under  the  con- 
queror's chariot.  To-day  I  should  -have  been 
buried  out  of  sight ;  away  from  the  beautiful 
day,  away  from  the  scornful  faces — out  of 
sight,  where  only  such  mis-shapen  things 
should  be.  They  would  have  gathered  my 
ashes  tenderly,  even  mine  ;  and  my  urn,  even 
mine,  would  have  been  something  the  sun 
might  shine  on  ;  and  thou  wouldst  have  come 
and  wept  over  it,  and  yet  been  half  glad  that 
the  poor  waste,  hopeless  life  was  over." 

The  Vestal  had  no  hope  wherewith  to  com- 
fort the  child — nothing  but  love.  But  love 
steals  in  to  sorrowful  hearts,  when  even  hope 
cannot  enter,  but  has  to  shine  outside.  She 
could  only  say, — 

"  I  love  thee,  dear ;  and  old  Laon  loves  thee. 
Our  mother  and  father  would  miss  thee  in  the 
house,  be  sure  !  But  Laon  and  I — what  should 
we  do  if  thou  wert  gone  ?  Never  make  thine 
obsequies,  and  put  thyself  in  the  urn  again, 
little  sister.  Thou  wilt  have  to  make  mine 
with  them." 


78  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

And  as  the  sisters  sat  clasped  together,  a 
warmth  crept  over  the  poor  child's  heart,  and 
she  looked  up  again  in  the  beautiful  face  she 
loved  so  dearly,  and  smiled.  And  in  that 
smile,  on  the  wan,  thin  face,  there  was  a  beauty 
deeper  than  that  of  the  perfect  face  she  gazed 
on — the  sacred  spiritual  beauty  born  of  pain 
and  self-forgetting  love.  The  Vestal  saw  it, 
and  understood  it.  Then  she  rose  hastily, 
and  said, — 

"  I  may  not  linger  a  moment  longer  from 
the  temple." 

And,  with  another  embrace,  she  took  up  her 
pitcher  and  sprang  lightly  away.  But  before 
she  glided  out  of  sight  among  the  myrtles 
and  ilexes,  she  turned  back,  and  said, — 

"  Sweet,  there  is  a  sacred  fire,  an  altar  of 
our  goddess,  on  thy  hearth,  as  well  as  on  the 
hearth  of  Rome.  Keep  charge  of  that." 

At  the  garden  door  one  of  the  lictors  met 
her,  whose  office  it  was  to  guard  the  vestals 
when  they  walked  through  the  streets,  as»a 
part  of  the  sacred  state  and  magistracy  of 
Rome. 

And  so,  in  her  white  stole,  with  the  fresh 
water  from  the  spring  in  her  two-handled 
pitcher,  carefully  held  in  both  hands,  she 
glided  through  the  narrow  footpaths  among 
the  'gardens  over  the  Ccelian  hill  to  the  tem- 
ple at  the  foot  of  the  Palatine.  The  low  light 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  79 

flamed  through  the  vine  leaves  and  the  quiver- 
ing olives  on  her,  like  the  fire  from  a  Vestal 
shrine  in  heaven  ;  and  the  dawn  touched  her 
white  robe  and  the  clustering  curls  of  her 
brown  hair  with  fond  sisterly  fingers  as  she 
went,  an  embodiment  of  the  loveliest  vision 
of  that  old  Roman  world,  with  pure  womanly 
hands  to  keep  the  shrine  of  the  goddess  pure  ; 
to  keep  the  sacred  fire,  which  was  the  light 
and  shield  of  her  people,  burning  for  ever ; 
to  make  the  hearth  of  every  home  an  altar, 
by  making  the  most  sacred  altar  in  the  coun- 
try a  hearth-fire. 

The  day  of  the  young  priestess's  first  min- 
istrations passed  away,  and  the  night  came 
for  which  she  had  longed,  the  night  when  first 
the  sacred  fire  was  committed  to  her  keeping, 
for  Rome,  and  every  hearth  in  Rome. 

At  first,  long  after  dark,  the  murmur  of  the 
great  city  kept  surging  round  the  temple, 
from  the  Palatine  and  Capitoline  hills  between 
which  it  stood,  and  from  the  Forum  outside. 
Gradually  the  steady  murmur  died  away.  The 
great  sea  of  life  was  getting  hushed,  and  only 
now  and  then  some  intermittent  wave  of  sound 
broke  against  the  silence.  Revelers  return- 
ing through  the  Forum  to  the  palaces  of  the 
Palatine,  or  to  the  villas  among  the  herbs  and 
gardens  of  the  Pincian  hill,  or  with  noisier 


go  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

merriment  to  the  crowded  quarters  on  the 
low  ground — merriment  not  seldom  ending 
in  conflicts. 

At  length  these  intermittent  sounds  also 
ceased,  and  the  Forum  outside  became  as 
empty  and  silent  as  the  shrine  within. 

Still  the  young  priestess  watched  on  in  the 
midst  of  a  silence  more  solemn  than  any  other 
— the  silence  in  the  midst  of  a  great  city — her 
heart  full  of  the  old  Roman  ideal  of  duty,  and 
of  the  heroic  legends  of  her  race.  And  the 
silence  bathed  and  flowed  around  her  spirit 
like  a  sea  of  still  pure  waters,  as  she  sate  or 
knelt  beside  the  altar,  from  time  to  time  feed- 
ing the  sacred  fire,  or  throwing  frankincense 
upon  it,  whilst  the  flames  flickered  on  her 
white  stole,  and  lit  up  the  purple  border  of 
her  sacrificial  veil. 

Through  the  open  roof  of  the  temple,  open 
as  the  impluvium  of  every  Roman  house,  the 
stars  looked  down  on  her,  slowly  entering 
and  leaving  one  by  one  the  little  space  of  sky 
above  her. 

Her  heart  was  full  of  glad  and  innocent 
visions.  "  I  am  only  doing  what  every  Ro- 
man matron  does  for  her  home,"  she  thought, 
"  simple,  humble,  household  work.  This  tem- 
ple is  only  a  hearth,  open  to  the  sky  as  every 
Roman  house.  But  I  am  doing  it  for  Rome, 
and  every  hearth  in  Rome,  awake,  serving  all, 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  8 1 

while  they  rest  on  sleeping  and  know  not  of- 
me." 

Then  gazing  up  through  the  clear  depths 
of  the  night  to  the  stars,  she  wondered  if  the 
stars  also  were  hearth-fires,  fed  by  pure  divine 
hands,  and  by  loving  hearts,  loving  and  car- 
ing for  those  who  knew  not.  The  whole  world 
seemed  to  her  an  altar  for  the  sacred  fire. 

The  hearth-fire  she  guarded  and  fed  so  care- 
fully was  linked  on  one  side  with  the  stars, 
and  on  the  other  with  the  humblest  hearth  in 
Rome. 

So  the  maiden  did  her  sacred  woman's  work 
for  her  people,  and  kept  the  little  island  of 
purity  given  to  her  charge,  in  the  midst  of 
the  great  corrupt  city. 

Only  one  shadow  lay  on  her  heart,  the 
shadow  of  her  little  sister's  blighted  life.  But 
this  fell  heavily.  For  through  that  one  irre- 
mediable wrong,  the  shadow  of  all  the  irre- 
mediable wrong  and  pain  in  the  world  laid  its 
burden  on  her  heart.  A  burden  which  her 
priesthood  would  not  lighten. 

So,  from  the  mystery  of  pain  and  sorrow, 
which  she  could  not  relieve,  or  penetrate,  she 
turned  away  to  the  sacred  fire  her  heart  and 
hands  might  help  to  keep  burning. 

She  ministered  in  the  temple,  a  beautiful 
type,  and  a  living  witness  to  the  sacred  aspira- 
tions of  better  days,  aspirations  after  purity 


82  VICTORY  OF  THE    VANQUISHED. 

-which  all  the  corruption  around  could   not 
stifle,  powerless  as  they  were  to  purify. 

Until  again  the  dawn  broke — and  the  great 
tumult  of  life  began  to  surge  around  the  sanc- 
tuary— in  the  city  where  the  family  had  ceased 
to  be  sacred,  where  the  people  had  become 
an  idle  populace  of  paupers  living  on  the  im- 
perial dole  of  corn,  and  the  Senate  a  shadowy 
company  of  courtiers  living  on  the  imperial 
smiles ;  where  work  was  ignominious,  and 
murder  an  amusement ;  ^md  there  were  no 
gods  but  Money  and  Tiberius  Caesar. 

She  ministered  alone  within,  clothed  in 
white  raiment,  keeping  the  sacred  eternal 
fire  ;  whilst  outside  reveled  the  worn,an  ar- 
rayed in  purple  and  scarlet  color,  having  a 
golden  cup  in  her  hand  full  of  abominations, 
with  her  merchandize  of  gold  and  silver, 
wrung  from  tortured  provinces,  her  cinna- 
mon and  odors,  her  fine  flour  and  wheat,  her 
slaves  outnumbering  her  citizens,  her  traffic 
in  the  "  bodies  and  souls  of  men." 

The  loveliest  type  of  the  purest  aspirations 
of  that  old  perishing  world. 

•x-  *  w  *  *•  -x- 

But  while  the  vestals  kept  vigil  in  the  tem- 
ple for  Rome,  through  many  a  long  night  on 
the  lonely  hills  of  Syria  vigil  was  being  kept 
for  the  world,  all  night,  in  prayer  to  God. 

One  altar  was  in  the  world  on  which  burned 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  83 

the  sacred  eternal  fire  of  unquenchable  re- 
deeming love,  the  sacred  fire  linked  with 
heaven  and  with  every  hearth  on  earth  ;  a 
fire  not  of  mere  aspiration,  powerless  to  keep 
anything  pure  but  itself,  but  of  redemption, 
which  was  to  purify  the  world  by  consuming 
the  heart  in  which  it  glowed. 

A  Priesthood  had  begun,  not  only  tender 
to  sympathize,  but  strong  to  save,  able  to  bear 
the  great  burden  of  the  world  and  take  it 
away,  and  to  change  the  irrevocable  wrong 
from  curse  into  blessing. 

But  the  virgins  at  their  vestal  vigils  knew 
not  of  it. 

Nor  of  the  great  multitude  clothed  in  white 
robes,  whom  the  blood  of  that  heart  was  to 
redeem  and  cleanse,  that  they  also  might  be 
altars  from  which,  day  and  night,  the  fra- 
grance of  incense  and  the  flames  of  the  sacred 
eternal  fire  might  go  up  to  heaven. 


CHAPTER  V. 


LD  Laon,  the  Greek  slave,  sat  on  the 
steps  of  the  Temple  of  Vesta,  look- 
ing down  on  the  Forum,  while  his 
young  mistress,  Cloelia,  the  deformed 
child,  was  within  the  sacred  precincts  with 
her  sister  Clcelia  Pulchra,  the  Vestal. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning.  The  sellers 
of  fruits  and  vegetables,  just  come  in  from  the 
country  with  their  baskets  on  their  heads,  or 
with  their  laden  asses,  were  loudly  crying 
their  wares,  or  bargaining  with  the  slaves  of 
the  great  households,  and  with  the  poorer  cit- 
izens themselves. 

Time  was  a  plentiful  commodity  in  Rome 
just  then.  Commerce  being  from  of  old  de- 
spised by  the  burghers  as  only  fit  for  freed- 
men,  and  manual  work  by  all  Romans  as  only 
fit  for  slaves,  whilst  artistic  work  was  chiefly 
the  prerogative  of  Greeks,  and  the  work  of 
government  was  entirely  undertaken  by  the 
Emperor,  there  was  abundant  leisure  for  con- 
(84) 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  85 

versation.  There  was  also  abundant  oppor- 
tunities for  cultivating  it  among  a  people  of 
whom  the  greater  number  were  crowded  into 
a  mass  of  tall  houses  intersected  by  narrow 
winding  alleys,  compared  with  which  the 
most  densely-peopled  dwellings  of  our  mod- 
ern cities  would  seem  spacious,  so  that  their 
days  were  spent  together  in  the  open  air. 

Old  Laon  sat  and  watched  with  an  amused 
face  the  various  eager  groups  forming  and 
breaking  around  him,  until  the  crowd  in- 
creased, and  all  grouping  was  merged  in  the 
confused  multitude. 

From  the  Patrician  Homes,  large  or  small, 
detached  in  the  midst  of  pleasant  old  gardens 
and  shrubberies  on  the  hills  traversed  by  no 
vulgar  public  roads  but  only  by  steps  and 
narrow  foot-paths  winding  among  the  green 
slopes  and  terraces,  came  slaves  for  early  pur- 
chases, and  occasionally  some  nobleman,  fol- 
lowed by  a  troop  of  clients. 

From  the  Islands  of  towering  houses,  on  the 
low  ground  and  on  the  ledges  of  the  hills, 
with  their  tangled  jungle  of  human  life,  troop- 
ing down  the  outside  staircases,  and  through 
the  narrow  lanes,  often  roofed  over  by  bal- 
conies, came  the  multitudes  of  the  Roman 
people. 

To  these  their  houses  were  mere  sleeping- 
places.  The  Forum,  the  Circus,  the  Amphi- 


86  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

theatre,  or  the  Baths  were  for  them  not  mere- 
ly places  of  amusement,  but  living-rooms,  par- 
lors, talking-places,  meeting-places,  and  rest- 
ing-places. 

The  talk  of  the  lips,  therefore,  was  the  great 
business  of  Rome.  And  talk  of  the  lips  most 
strictly  it  behoved  to  be,  essentially  calculated 
to  lead  to  nothing.  Any  touching  on  deeper 
things  had  been  made  especially  perilous  in 
the  days  of  Tiberius  by  the  renewed  law  of 
Treason,  which  ruled  that  the  sacred  Majesty 
of  the  Emperor  might  be  wounded  by  a 
word.  By  the  law  of  treason,  and  by  the  en- 
couragement of  informers  to  the  length  of 
making  them  the  most  real  officers  of  state. 
Conversation,  therefore,  must  be  of  the  light- 
est kind ;  light  as  the  tread  on  the  thinnest 
lava-crust  over  a  recent  eruption ;  and  the 
great  majority  of  freemen  had  little  to  do  but 
to  talk. 

Books,  for  the  people,  did  not  exist,  and  by 
the  wealthy,  and  even  by  the  learned,  were 
little  used.  All  the  talking  now  done  through 
countless  printing-offices  had  then  to  be  done 
through  Roman  lungs.  Authors  read  their 
own  compositions,  and  the  opinion  of  the  pub- 
lic came  to  them  not  through  reviews,  or 
through  the  disappearance  of  editions,  but 
through  the  hush  or  the  acclamations  of  their 
listeners. 


VICTORY  OF  THE    VANQUISHED.  87 

Thus,  on  that  May  morning,  A.  D.  17,  it  may 
be  imagined  what  a  tumult  of  tongues  there 
was  around  old  Laon  in  the  Forum,  when  all 
Rome  awoke  once  more  to  talk. 

And  meanwhile,  from  the  hills  all  around, 
the  silent  guardian  temples  looked  down  on 
the  eager,  noisy  throng,  crowning  the  crowd- 
ed heights  with  the  long  lines  of  their  marble 
porticoes  glowing  in  the  morning  sun. 

Laon  had  many  acquaintances  among  all 
classes.  From  time  to  time  one  and  another 
branched  off  from  the  eager  crowd  to  ex- 
change words  with  him. 

First  came  Damaris,  an  old  slave  of  Clcelius 
Tullus,  a  fellow-slave  with  him.  She  seated 
herself  beside  him,  laying  down  her  heavy 
basket  with  a  groan. 

"  You  seem  oppressed,  my  fair  compatriot." 

"  Compatriot !  Thou,  a  mere  Antiochene,  a 
Macedonian,  contaminated  with  Syrian  blood 
and  manners,  and  I  an  Athenian !" 

"  It  is  true  I  have  Syrian  blood  in  my  veins, 
sweet  Damaris.  It  is  that  which  makes  me 
so  gracious  and  amiable.  Had  I  been  only  a 
descendant  of  the  race  which  conquered  for 
Alexander,  life  might  have  been  as  hard  for 
me  as  it  seems  to  be  for  thee.  Thanks  to  my 
Syrian  mother,  and  my  philosophy,  I  can 
bend,  and  so  escape  many  a  blow  which  thy 
less  pliable  nature  receives  and  resents.  The 


88  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

heroic  firmness  was  good  for  heroic  days,  but 
the  new  philosophy  suits  these.  It  is  a  pity, 
Damaris,  thou  wouldst  never  be  instructed 
by  me  in  philosophy." 

"  I  would  not  give  a  rotten  fig  for  thy  phi- 
losophy. What  would  thy  philosophy  do  for 
thee  in  preparing  tor  a  supper-party  like  this, 
that  we  are  toiling  about  to-day  ?  Nothing  is 
so  embittering  as  the  lot  of  the  slaves  of  these 
poor  patricians." 

"  Excuse  me,  rich  freedmen  are  worse  mas- 
ters." 

"  It  may  be.  But  at  any  rate  they  do  not 
stint  your  oil  and  salt.  My  mistress  grows 
sourer  and  stingier  every  day.  As  grasping 
as  a  usurer,  and  as  proud  as  the  Empress- 
mother.  All  because  one  ancestor  dug  a  fine 
ditch  some  hundreds  of  years  ago,  and  another 
had  an  equestrian  statue  made  to  her,  which 
still  stands  in  the  Sacred  Way.  A  choice 
statue,  doubtless,  made  by  these  Romans  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago !  when  now,  after  all  they 
have  -learnt  of  us,  my  son  Callias  says  not  one 
of  them  in  a  thousand  can  tell  a  head  by  Prax- 
iteles from  one  by  a  stone-mason.  A  good 
thing  if  the  Clcelii,  and  their  statues,  were  all 
buried  in  the  old  Clcelian  ditch." 

"  Softly,  my  good  Damaris.  Say  what  you 
like  about  their  statues.  Their  ditches  are 
irreproachable.  These  Latins  made  unexcep- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  89 

tionable  ditches.  And  as  to  statues,  let  us  re- 
member your  Athenians  did  not  agree  so  well 
with  their  Praxiteles  while  they  had  him. 
Even  they  would  have  spoilt  his  statues  if  he 
had  obeyed  them." 

"  Well,  we  may  let  Praxiteles  alone.  My 
son  Callias  has  had  an  order  for  a  statue  from 
a  great  Syrian  prince,  Herod  Antipas.  He  is 
building  a  palace  in  a  new  city  he  has  founded 
by  a  Syrian  lake,  called  Tiberias  after  the 
Emperor.  These  provincials  pay  well.  The 
price  will  buy  my  son's  freedom,  and  then  he 
will  work  for  mine.  And  the  noble  house  of 
Cloelius  may  make  their  own  ditches  and  sup- 
pers to  the  end  of  time,  without  my  aid." 

"  You  expect  great  guests?" 

"  Yes,  imperial,  for  aught  I  know ;  and  I 
know  not  what  fare,  and  Clcelia  Tulla  is  come 
herself  to  bargain  about  the  provisions.  She 
would  trust  none  of  us.  There  are  to 
be  thrushes,  and  dormice,  and  flamingoes' 
tongues,  and  I  know  not  what.  Imagine  how 
our  rations  will  be  stinted  for  weeks  to  come  ! 
And  imagine  how  the  poor  child  you  call  Di- 
odora  suffers.  The  master  is  wise,  and  keeps 
out  of  the  way  at  the  Campius  Martius  or  the 
Amphitheatre.  At  us  fly  pins  and  sticks,  or 
anything  that  comes  to  hand.  But  we  can 
often  wriggle  away  and  avoid  them.  Hap- 
pily the  gods  have  made  anger  blind.  But 


90  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

that  poor  child !  The  heart  is  not  so  easily 
guarded  as  the  head.  And  sarcasms  are  worse 
than  pins.  Better  for  her  if  you  had  not  res- 
cued her.  Better  she  had  perished  when  they 
cast  her  out,  a  helpless  babe,  to  die  in  the 
streets." 

"  Better  altogether,  Damaris,  if  we  had  not 
these  inconvenient,  irregular  things  called 
hearts..  We  should  make  far  better  working 
machines.  The  world  would  go  quite  smooth- 
ly, like  the  stars ;  philosophy  would  find  half 
her  work  done ;  and  there  would  be  no  his- 
tory to  write." 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  that  act  of  folly  of 
mine  had  well-nigh  been  undone  this  week, 
had  it  not  been  for  another  of  "those  irregular 
impulses  of  hearts.  The  child  would  have 
been  trampled  to  death  in  the  Triumph  if  a 
young  German  captive  had  not  lifted  her  up 
and  placed  her  in  safety,  fettered  as  he  was. 
Poor  fellow !  he  caught  some  hard  blows  for 
his  pains.  I  would  fain  see  him  again.  There 
was  something  in  his  high,  bold  bearing  which 
made  me  think  bondage  is  like  to  prove  bit- 
ter to  him." 

"  But,  ah  !"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly,  "  who 
is  that  tall  lad,  with  fair  long  hair,  in  a  dark 
slave's  dress,  carrying  a  load  of  torch  wood  ?" 

Whilst  he  spoke  he  had  been  steadily  scan- 
ning the  crowd,  as  if  in  search  of  some  one. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.          91 

At  that  moment  he  started  from  the  steps  and 
made  a  dart  into  the  thick  of  the  throng. 

Siward  recognized  at  once  the  kindly  eyes 
in  perpetual  debate  with  the  sarcastic  mouth. 
But  he  would  not  turn  aside,  as  Laon  asked 
him,  for  a  morning  draught  of  wine.  He 
had  been  given  a  task,  and  he  must  hasten  to 
do  it. 

"  You  are  new  at  the  work,"  said  the  old 
man,  as  he  walked  beside  him.  "  No  slave 
thinks  of  going  straight  on  a  message.  See 
them  hovering  around  the  cook  shops  and  the 
wine  shops,  stuffing  the  fruit  into  their  mouth 
—jesting  with  the  flower-girls  from  the  Cam- 
pagna.  It  costs  them  nothing.  Their  time 
is  their  masters' ;  and  it  is  for  the  master, 
doubtless,  they  are  making  these  hard  bar- 
gains !  and  what  harm  if  they  share  the 
profits  ?" 

"  I  am  new  at  the  work,"  said  the  boy,  not 
in  a  very  gracious  voice.  "  They  have  made 
me  a  slave.  But  I  will  not  make  myself  a 
thief  and  a  liar,  nor  as  one  of  these  lazy  glut- 
tonous swine." 

"  Not  so  bad  for  a  young  barbarian,"  chuck- 
led old  Laon.  "  Not  so  bad,  if  it  had  been 
declaimed  at  the  Porch.  Master  thyself,  and 
no  man  can  make  thee  a  slave." 

"  Boy,"  he  continued,  "  the  load  hurts  thee ; 
thou  art  lame." 


93  VICTORY  OF  TEE   VANQUISHED. 

The  boy  flushed  ;  for  a  moment  he  was  si- 
lent. But  the  kindness  of  the  tone  and  of 
the  eyes  into  which  he  glanced  unlocked  his 
heart. 

"  My-  shoulders  are  bruised  ;  but  the  load 
had  to  be  carried,  and  I  am  doing  it  as  well 
as  I  can." 

"  If  thou  hast  to  be  beaten,  it  shall  not  be 
for  doing  wrong,  eh  ?"  said  the  old  man. 

"  I  have  not  been  beaten  by  any  one  who 
had  a  right,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  have  only  been 
knocked  down  and  kicked  about  by  a  base 
herd  of  slaves." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  boy's  arm. 

"  Gently,  my  son,  gently,"  he  said.  "  Slaves 
will  not  stand  being  called  names  by  any  but 
their  masters." 

"  I  did  not  .call  them  names,"  Siward  re- 
plied ;  "  they  called  me  names." 

"  For  instance  ?" 

"  They  asked  -me  of  my  parentage.  And 
when  I  said  that  my  father  was  noble,  and 
that  he  worked  at  his  own  smithy,  they  called 
me  '  the  patrician  blacksmith,'  and  jeered  at 
my  father  and  my  mother,  until  I  had  no  an- 
swer left  but  to  knock  one  of  them  down." 

"  Not  wise,"  said  the  old  man  drily  ;  "  he- 
roic, but  not  wise.  A  blacksmith's,  my  son, 
is  not  considered  a  patrician  employment  in 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.  93 

Rome.  It  was  a  misunderstanding.  The  mis- 
fortune is  this  :  Your  people  are  living  in  a 
different  era  from  these  Romans.  You  are 
still  in  your  heroic  age.  We  also,  Greeks  and 
Latins,  have  had  this  ; — one  of  the  Homeric 
gods  was  a  blacksmith,  or  at  least  a  smith. 
He  made  thrones  and  spears  for  the  gods  and 
the  goddesses.  And  they  thought  a  great 
deal  of  him.  But  that  is  a  long  while  ago. 
We  Greeks  and  Latins  have  long  since  out- 
lived our  heroic  age.  And  blacksmiths  are 
no  longer  honored  amongst  us  as  they  should 
be.  Nor,  indeed,  workmen  of  any  kind.  The 
Roman  people  decline  to  work.  Why  should 
they  ?  Tiberius  Caesar  gives  them  their  daily 
bread — Alexandrian  corn,  and  salt,  and  the 
Games.  The  Roman  patricians  scorn  com- 
merce. Naturally.  They  can  plunder  prov- 
inces." 

The  boy  looked  up,  half  doubting  whether 
he  was  being  again  made  a  butt  of.  The  wits 
of  these  southern  people  were  so  sharp  that  a 
straightforward  German  did  not  perceive  he 
was  hit  by  their  jests,  until  he  saw  every  one 
around  laughing  at  his  discomfiture. 

"  I  speak  with  feeling,  my  son,"  Laon  re- 
sumed ;  "  for  I  also  am  a  blacksmith,  or  at 
least  a  smith.  And  I  am  far  from  being  hon- 
ored as  I  ought  to  be.  I  am  also  a  slave. 
Not  ten  days  since  my  mistress  was  not 


94          VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

pleased  with  a  brooch  I  had  mended  for  her, 
and  she  called  me  a  ugly,  lame,  old  fool,  and 
scratched  my  face  with  the  pin.  It  was  not  a 
glorious  wound,  rather  ignominious.  But  it 
hurt  considerably.  You  may  still  see  the  scar. 
And  the  name  she  called  me  was  not  pleas- 
ant. Not  the  more  so  because  it  is  true.  You 
see,  I  am  old,  and  lame,  and  not  beautiful. 
But  then  it  was  easier  for  me  to  bear  than  for 
you,  because  I  was  not  brought  up  in  the  he- 
roic age.  Therefore  what  seems  to  you  high 
tragedy,  is  to  me  simply  uncomfortable  com- 
edy. I  feel  the  scratch,  and  the  indignity  ; 
but  I  smile." 

"  You  are  a  smith  !"  rejoined  Siward,  go- 
ing straight  to  the  only  point  in  Laon's  dis- 
course that  was  quite  clear  to  him.  "  I  wish 
I  could  learn  of  you.  The  Roman  weapons 
are  better  than  ours.  My  father  always  said 
so." 

"  You  wish  you  could  learn  of  me  ?  It 
might  perhaps  be  managed.  You  would  be 
more  valuable  to  your  master  if  you  knew  a 
trade.  And  if  that  would  be  an  inducement, 
I  would  teach  you  for  nothing.  Clrelius  Tul- 
lus  would,  I  think,  permit  this  as  a  reward  to 
the  boy  who  rescued  his  daughter.  Not  that 
we  must  presume  much  on  that ;  for  I  once 
did  the  same  !  Boy,  you  have  a  strong  arm, 
and  you  used  it  well  that  day." 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  95 

"  Poor  deformed  child !"  said  the  boy  ;  "  she 
did  not  look  as  if  she  needed  anything  more 
to  make  her  life  miserable.  Was  she  hurt  ?" 

"  Only  by  the  rough  words  of  the  crowd. 
They  spoke  uncivilly  of  her  deformity.  She 
did  not  like  being  called  names,  any  more 
than  you  or  I.  None  the  more  because  they 
are  true.  She  is  not  well  shaped  ;  and  I  am 
lame,  and  hardly  to  be  called  beautiful ;  and 
you  are  the  son  of  a  blacksmith,  and  also 
noble.  We  must  try  not  to  mind  if  people  call 
us  so." 

For  the  first  time  Siward  caught  the  mean- 
ing of  the  old  man,  and  smiled,  a  broad,  frank 
German  smile — and  then  he  even  laughed,  a 
hearty  German  laugh. 

"  I  have  been  a  fool  to  mind  them,"  he  said. 
"If  you  can  get  me  into  your  smithy,  I  will 
work  for  you  as  if  it  were  at  my  father's  forge 
in  the  Lippe  Valley.  And  you  will  make  me 
wise  as  you  are." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Wait  a  little.  I 
did  not  throw  my  wisdom  into  the  bargain !" 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  the  palace  of 
Germanicus. 

Laon  turned  back  to  wait  for  his  young 
mistress. 

And  Siward  said  to  Siguna,  when  he  met 
her  next, — 

"  Mother,   I   have  found  an  old  man  who 


96  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

seems  as  wise  as  Odin's  ravens.  He  says  he 
will  teach  me  to  make  swords.  For  Her- 
man !"  he  added,  in  a  low  voice — "  for  Her- 
man, and  our  people  in  the  forests  !  They 
make  good  spears  and  swords  at  Rome." 

Her  heart  bounded  to  see  something  of  the 
old  light  on  his  frank  brow  again. 

And  little  Hilda  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
him,  as  if  she  felt  the  sunshine  on  his  face, 
and  unfolded  in  it  like  a  flower. 

And  for  the  time,  in  all  the  palace  of  the 
brave  Germanicus  and  his  wife,  with  their 
beautiful  children  (one  of  them  the  boy  Calig- 
ula, darling  of  the  Roman  soldiers),  there  were 
no  hearts  lighter  than  those  of  the  German 
captives. 

For  Hope  had  lit  up  the  world  for  them. 
And  in  all  the  empire  of  Tiberius  Caesar  Hope 
had  little  free  space  to  breathe  in. 

There  was,  however,  one  terrible  sight  in- 
delibly stamped  on  Siward's  memory,  of 
which  he  had  never  spoken  to  his  mother 
or  to  any  one. 

On  that  May  morning  before  the  Triumph, 
when  he  and  Siguna  had  sat  together  at  the 
tent-door  on  the  hills,  watching  the  dawn, 
when  the  silence  was  pierced  by  those  wails 
from  the  slave-prison,  an  irresistible  impulse 
of  curiosity  and  sympathy  had  urged  the  boy 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.  97 

to  find  out  what  had  caused  those  cries  of 
anguish. 

Alone,  therefore,  after  his  mother  had  been 
summoned  away,  he  had  found  an  opportu- 
nity to  creep  down  the  hill-side  to  the  place 
whence  the  cries  proceeded,  and  there  on  a 
hillock,  visible  from  a  great  distance  around, 
he  had  seen  a  number  of  slaves  set  up  two 
cross  pieces  of  wood,  with  a  living  man  nailed 
to  them. 

They  supported  his  feet  with  a  piece  of 
wood,  so  that  he  was  not  altogether  suspended 
and  then  the  executioners  and  the  spectators 
dispersed,  leaving  the  victim  exposed  in  his 
ignominy  and  agony  to  die  slowly  of  pain  and 
hunger. 

From  the  opposite  slope  where  Siward 
stood  the  writhings  of  the  tortured  victim 
were  only  too  visible,  and  his  cries  only  too 
clearly  heard.  For  a  few  minutes  Siward 
stood  trembling,  fascinated  by  the  revolting 
sight. 

Then  he  turned  back  to  the  camp.  As  he 
turned  away,  he  met  a  fisherman  carrying  a 
basket  of  fish  to  the  villa  to  which  the  slave- 
prison  belonged. 

There  must  have  been  a  deep  horror  im- 
printed on  the  boy's  face,  for  the  man  an- 
swered it. 

"  It  is  only  a  slave  !"  he  said,  as  he  passed. 
5 


98  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  None  but  the  basest  criminals,  or  slaves,  are 
punished  thus." 

"  Will  he  be  long  dying  ?"  Siward  asked. 

"  Not  many  days.  It  depends  partly  on 
whether  they  can  sleep.  The  masters  think 
this  a  good  way  to  show  the  slaves,  now  and 
then,  what  they  can  do  if  they  like.  It  is  not 
so  very  long  since  the  last  slave-insurrection. 
And  they  do  not  want  another." 

And  the  fisherman  passed  on. 

But  from  Siward's  mind  that  dreadful  image 
never  faded. 

He  trusted  his  mother  knew  nothing  of  it. 
But  in  many  a  lonely  hour  it  came  back  on 
him,  and  gave  a  feverish  intensity  to  all  his 
endeavors  to  work  for  his  own  liberation  and 
that  of  his  people  from  a  tyranny  which  re- 
served such  tortures  for  those  it  dreaded. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ENDERLY  the  old  man  piloted  the 
child  from  the  Temple  of  Vesta 
through  the  Forum,  and  amongst 

J   the  crowds  of  laden  wagons,  char- 


iots with  four  horses  abreast,  men  crying 
their  wares  in  all  keys  and  dialects,  which 
thronged  the  Sacred  Way,  in -a  city  which 
counted  its  population  by  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands, and  had  only  two  carriage-roads,  and 
scarcely  any  shops. 

At  length  they  had  skirted  the  Palatine, 
and  branched  off  into  a  footpath  among  the 
gardens  on  the  Ccelian,  slowly  climbing  the 
steps  together. 

"  I  have  seen  thy  deliverer,  Clcelia  Dio- 
dora,"  said  Laon.  "  He  also  finds  life  not  al- 
together smooth,  like  so  many,  —  from  the 
multitudes  of  the  Roman  people,  who  exist 
on  the  crust  and  salt,  and  the  Games,  to  the 
Emperor,  who  gives  them  all  things." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  looking  up 

(99) 


100        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

into  his  face  with  eyes  that  flashed  almost 
fiercely. 

"  Stop,  Laon,  stop !"  she  said.  "  I  have 
been  with  Clcelia  the  Vestal,  my  sister,  and 
that  is  like  being  among  the  gods  on  Olym- 
pus. I  have  been  drinking  in  her  beauty  and 
goodness  like  nectar.  Do  not  make  every- 
thing gray  to  me.  I  will  not  have  it.  I  will 
sit  in  my  darkness,  and  call  it  darkness.  But 
I  will  look  out  on  the  light,  and  see  it  glow 
in  the  sky,  and  burn  on  the  hills,  and  dance 
on  the  waters.  And  I  will  not  have  the  light 
called  darkness  to  please  me,  because  I  am 
not  in  it."  Then  gently  she  added, — 

"  I  will  sit  in  the  darkness,  as  in  the  old 
days,  when  I  did  not  know  I  was  a  blot  on  the 
light,  in  the  little  dark  room  behind  thy  work- 
shop— looking  through  the  lattice  at  thee,  and 
watching  the  sparks  from  thy  fire,  or  listening 
to  the  wise  talk.  Oh,  Laon,"  she  concluded, 
with  a  sudden  change,  impulsive  and  intense 
as  she  was,  "  If  I  could  only  sit  there  always, 
and  dress  thy  olives  and  onions,  and  cook  thy 
fish  for  thee,  as  I  used  to  hope  I  should  ! " 

"  Child,  I  did  it  for  the  best,"  he  said.  "  Could 
I  withhold  thee  from  thy  mother,  when  I  heard 
her  moaning  and  wailing  for  but  one  of  her 
dead  children  ?  I  thought  that  nurture  and 
culture  better  than  I  could  give  might  yet  re- 
store thee." 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         IQI 

"  Was  I  like  what  I  am,  when  thou  didst 
first  find  me  ?"  she  asked  in  a  low  voice,  after 
a  pause,  "  when  I  lay,  a  little,  helpless,  wail- 
ing babe  by  the  wayside,  abandoned  by  all, 
and  thou  savedst  me  ?" 

"  Now  I  know  little  what  thou  wert  like," 
he  said.  "  It  may  be  thy  little  tender  frame 
got  some  twist  or  hurt  when  they  cast  thee 
out.  I  was  not  learned  in  the  looks  or  ways 
of  babes.  Thy  cry  went  to  my  heart." 

"  And  afterwards — was  I  like  other  chil- 
dren, at  first  ?" 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?"  he  said.  "  I  knew  not 
the  ways  of  other  children.  To  me  thou  wert 
not  like  any  other  child — with  thy  innocent, 
fondling  ways,  and  thy  sweet  prattle,  and  thy 
voice,  which  always  will  be  the  sweetest  voice 
in  the  world,  and  the  wonderful  wisdom  of 
thy  questions,  searching  into  depths  Plato 
could  not  have  fathomed.  To  me  thou  wert  as 
the  sweet  childhood  of  the  world — as  the  gol- 
den age  of  Greece  come  back  again — as  a  lyric 
springing  up  ever  fresh.  All  the  fair  legends 
of  the  gods  lived  again  in  thee.  Thou  wert 
to  me  as  an  image  dropped  down  from  Jupi- 
ter on  my  poor  hearth  to  make  it  as  glad  as 
Olympus.  And  I  called  thee  Diodora.  What 
did  it  matter  to  me  what  others  thought  thee 
like?  Thou  wert,  and  art,  my  god -given. 
Images  dropped  down  from  heaven  are  sel- 


102        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

dom  beautiful.  Diana  of  the  Ephcsians  is  a 
monster,  ending  in  a  shapeless  piece  of  wood. 
The  olive-wood  Athena  the  Parthenon  had 
little  of  the  beauty  of  the  golden  and  ivory 
statue  of  Phidias.  What  did  that  matter  ?  It 
had  come  down  from  heaven,  and  was  the 
most  sacred  treasure  of  Athens." 

"  It  was  hard  then  to  thee  to  give  me  up." 

"  Ijt  was  like  taking  the  sun  out  of  heaven. 
But  I  loved  thee.  And  I  thought  that  I 
should  see  my  darling  the  delight  of  a  Patri- 
cian house,  one  day  wearing  the  bride's  saff- 
ron veil." 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  Laon  !" 

He  looked  down  at  the  drooping,  quivering 
eyelids  and  the  flushed  face.  And  he  saw  she 
was  no  longer  a  mere  child. 

"  Laon,"  she  said,  "  what  if  I  could  come 
back  to  thee  again.  My  mother  has  seen  that 
German  boy  thou  callest  my  deliverer.  She 
and  my  father  think  they  might  adopt  him. 
And  then,  perhaps,  I  might  come  back  to  the 
little  room  behind  the  workshop  with  thee. 
I  should  leave  little  lack  of  sunshine  in  my 
home,  and  it  would  be  so  sweet  to  get  into 
the  shade  again  with  thee.  And  I  could  live 
between  thy  house  and  my  sister's  temple. 
Perhaps,  as  she  says,  make  thy  house  some- 
thing of  a  temple  !" 

"Would  the  lad  consent  to  this?"  Laon 
asked. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  His  mother  says  he  would  not ;  that  he 
is  a  German,  and  will  not  be  made  a  Roman  ; 
and  that  he  added  some  terrible  things  about 
women  who  expose  their  babes  to  die.  He 
called  them  murderesses,  Laon.  It  seems  the 
Germans  think  this  a  crime.4  But  think  of  all 
that  can  be  suffered  by  a  slave  :  the  terrible 
thong  knotted  with  sharp  stones,  the  furca, 
and  the  degradation,  and  " — she  added,  in  a 
low  voice — "  the  cross  !  Surely  he  cannot  re- 
fuse such  a  change." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  Laon  answered,  musingly. 
"  I  do  not  know.  That  boy  could  endure 
much.  And  I  think  he  has  learned  there  are 
things  worse  than  pain  or  death.  But  he  is 
coming  to  me  to  learn  my  trade,  Diodora, 
and  I  will  see." 

"  Thou  wouldst  not  persuade  him  to  any- 
thing against  his  good,  for  my  sake,  Laon  ?" 
she  said,  timidly.  "  I  have  never  liked  to 
burden  thee  with  complaints.  But  this  pal- 
ace is  no  home  to  me." 

"  They  are  not  cruel  to  thee,  little  one  ?" 
he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  No  one  means  to  be,"  she  said  ;  "  but  my 
mother,  you  know,  was  beautiful,  and  people 
say  my  face  is,  or  would  have  been,  like  hers, 
and  that  displeases  her.  And  her  delight  is 
in  jewels  and  in  the  toilette  ;  and  sometimes, 
when  Damaris  cannot  make  her  quite  as  fair 


104        VICTOR T  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

as  she  used  to  be,  she  is  angry  with  the  cos- 
metics and  with  Damaris,  and  when  she  is 
angry  the  sight  of  me  seems  to  vex  her  past 
endurance. 

"  But  I  am  not  angry  with  her,"  continued 
the  child,  "  for  I  think  the  truth  is  she  is  angry 
with  herself.  If  I  had  done  what  she  has  with 
me,  I  should  have  hated  myself,  and  hated 
every  one." 

"Reason  enough,"  murmured  Laon,  gut- 
turally. 

"And  my  father  likes  me  to  sit  in  the 
shadow  and  sing  him  lays  of  old  Rome,  es- 
pecially of  our  house,  of  the  Clcelius  who 
made  the  aqueduct,  and  the  Clcelia  who  saved 
the  children,  or  of  Virginia  and  the  Tarquins, 
or  of  Egeria  the  nymph,  whose  grotto  was  in 
the  slopes  of  the  hill  below  us.  My  father 
might  miss  me,  and  yet,  I  think,  not  much. 
For  I  heard  him  say  bitterly,  one  day,  I  was 
a  symbol  of  what  Rome  had  fallen  to, — the 
countenance  and  the  voice  of  the  old  Rome 
left,  but  the  whole  body  of  the  people  shape- 
less, helpless,  a  ruin  and  a  disgrace." 

"  It  would  be  sweet  to  thee  to  have  thy 
dwelling  again  with  me,"  said  the  old  man, 
musing,  "  in  the  little  dark  room  behind  the 
workshop." 

They  had  reached  the  garden  door  on  the 
southern  slopes  of  the  hill,  and  suddenly  as  it 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         105 

opened,  and  they  entered  from  the  shadow  of 
the  narrow  pathway  between  the  walls,  all 
the  wealth  of  the  May  sunshine  burst  on  them, 
lighting  up  the  beds  of  purple  and  saffron  cro- 
cuses, the  broad  reaches  of  the  Campagna  and 
beyond,  the  purple  and  saffron  Alban  hills. 
"  Sweeter  to  thee  than  this  ?"  he  asked. 

"  What  is  all  the  sunshine  outside  to  being 
a  little  bit  of  sunshine  myself  to  thee,  Laon?" 

"  Well,  I  did  my  best  for  thee,"  said  the  old 
man,  in  a  husky  voice  ;  "  but  perhaps  thou  art 
right,  Diodora,  my  god-given.  Perhaps  thou 
art  right.  In  our  Greece,  of  old,  we  might 
have  found  thee  a  place  of  honor.  Thou 
shouldst  have  sung  divine  songs  for  all  time 
like  Sappho,  or  Erinna.  We  would  have 
found  thee  a  place  to  make  sunshine  in." 

"  Would  you  ?"  said  the  girl,  doubtingly. 
"  Sappho  was  beautiful,  yet  she  died  of  love. 
Erinna  was  chained  to  her  spinning-wheel, 
and  faded  away  early,  being  I  suppose  be- 
loved of  the  gods.  Have  you  not  told  me  it 
was  not  the  matrons  and  the  good  women 
who  were  eloquent  and  wise  in  your  Greece  ? 
And,"  she  added  with  a  shudder,  "  I  always 
think  of  Thersites.  Lameness  and  deformity 
were  not  not  made  easy  for  him  among  your 
heroes !  I  think  you  would  have  found  lit- 
tle place  for  anything  not  beautiful  in  your 
Greece,  Laon,  here,  below,  or  on  Olympus. 
5* 


106        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

You  naturally  think  the  ugly  must  be  wicked 
and  malignant.  And  perhaps  they  are,"  she 
concluded  very  sorrowfully ;  "  perhaps  they 
are,  or  become  so.  It  is  hard  to  be  hated  and 
not  to  hate." 

"  Poor  child,"  Laon  replied  in  a  tremulous 
voice  ;  "  poor  child.  Perhaps  I  did  ill  for  thee. 
Life  is  bitter  for  all ;  more  than  to  most  for 
thee.  It  were  well  to  have  as  little  as  might 
be  of  it.  If  only  we  were  wise,  and  were  not 
so  foolish  as  to  love  and  miss  each  other. 
And  if  one  knew  a  little  more  surely  what 
death  is !" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IWARD  was  permitted  to  learn  La- 
on's  trade.  And  a  great  friendship 
sprang  up  between  the  two. 

Once  Laon  had  attempted  to  sug- 
gest that  the  boy  should  consent  to  be  adopt- 
ed into  the  Clcelian  house. 

But  the  storm  that  met  the  proposition  pre- 
vented his  ever  making  it  again. 

."  My  name  is  Siward,  son  of  Olave  and 
Siguna,  a  freeman  and  freewoman,  good  and 
brave  and  free,  and  German.  Shall  I  submit 
to  the  infamy  of  being  called  the  son  of  a 
murderer  and  a  murderess?  Worst  of  all 
murders,  who  cast  out  their  own  helpless 
babe  to  perish !" 

"  Strong  words,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  strong  words.  Have  a  care,  lad  ;  words  are 
held  crimes  now  in  Rome.  They  are  always 
weapons  sharper  and  more  perilous  than  any 
I  can  make.  Keep  them  in  a  sheath,  my  son." 

But   he    pursued   the    subject  no   further. 


108        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  Strange  gifts  have  come  to  me  in  this  beg- 
garly little  house,"  he  would  say.  "  First  the 
child  Diodora,  and  then  thou.  Childhood  and 
youth.  The  golden  age  and  the  heroic  age, 
always  recurring  in  this  decrepit  old  world. 
The  leaves  are  always  young,  even  when  the 
trees  are  hollow  with  decay.  What  must  it 
have  been  when  the  world  itself  was  young?" 

"  But  our  world  is  not  old,"  Siward  would 
say ;  "  our  world  in  the  forests  is  young." 

And  strange  interchanges  of  legend  passed 
between  them. 

Laon  told  the  beautiful  Greek  stories  of 
courage  and  endurance,  of  dragons  and  deliv- 
erers, of  Siren  voices  resisted  and  the  Golden 
Fleece  won,  of  labors  persevered  in  to  the 
death,  of  noble  battle,  of  the  joy  of  hard-won 
victory,  and  the  nobleness  higher  even  than 
that  of  the  victors  in  the  vanquished, — all  the 
old  legends  moulded  into  perfect  form  and 
music  through  Greek  art. 

And  in  return  Siward  gave — shapeless  as 
the  mists  on  his  northern  hills,  and  tangled  as 
the  paths  through  his  northern  forests,  not  yet 
fashioned  even  as  far  into  definite  shape  as  we 
see  them — old  Teuton  legends  of  the  mighty 
^Esir  and  their  golden  Asgard ;  of  Loki,  the 
Malignant,  who  penetrated  even  into  the  city 
of  the  gods,  and  the  gods  who  could  scarce 
penetrate  into  the  city  of  death,  still  less  res- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         iog 

cue  any  thence,  even  Baldur  the  Beautiful, 
the  beloved  of  gods,  and  men,  and  all  crea- 
tures; of  Siguna,  who  loved  her  lost  Loke, 
fallen  and  black-hearted  as  he  was,  when  the 
gods  and  all  creatures  hated  him,  and  kept 
off  the  poison  from  him,  age  after  age ;  of  the 
dark  unknown  worlds,  and  the  dark  unknown 
ages  that  encircle  everywhere  the  little  world 
and  little  life  of  man ;  of  the  cloud-dwellings 
and  the  fire-abysses ;  of  the  storm  and  chaos 
in  which  all  things  began,  and  the  chaotic 
storm  and  wrath  in  which  all  things,  even  As- 
gard  and  the  gods,  must  end ;  of  the  Tree  of 
Life,  evermore  gnawed  at  the  root,  and  ever- 
more fed  at  the  root  by  waters  brought  by 
pure  virgin  hands  from  the  living  springs ;  of 
Odin,  with  the  raven,  foreseeing  the  wreck  he 
could  not  avert ;  and  through  all  of  a  veiled 
light  afar  off,  mystical  and  sweet ;  of  Baldur, 
the  beloved,  the  divine,  whom  all  the  creat- 
ures loved  and  wept,  buried  deep  in  the  dark 
dwellings  of  Death,  unable  to  break  through 
them,  unable  to  irradiate  the  darkness,  yet 
never  assimilated  to  the  darkness  ;  living  in 
the  heart  of  the  death-kingdom  ;  always  a  dim 
unquenchable  hope  glowing  far  down  in  the 
depths. 

Old  Laon  listened,  and  responded  with 
the  great  tragedy  of  the  Bound  Titan,  who 
brought  the  sacred  fire  to  man ;  of  the  stir- 


HO        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

ring's  of  soft  wings  around  his  agony,  of  the 
lament  of  the  tortures,  of  the  dim  glimpses  of 
a  far-off  hope,  of  some  deliverer  to  be  born  in 
the  after-ages  out  of  much  anguish. 

"  Srange  !"  he  would  murmur,  "  strange  ! 
Barbarians  as  these  are,  there  is  something  in 
them  that  vibrates  to  our  music  as  these  Lat- 
ins never  can. 

"  These  Romans  are  ever  the  centre  of  the 
world  to  themselves,  and  see  nothing  above 
their  own  stature.  Of  our  Homeric  legends 
what  can  they  make  but  a  pious  ^Eneas,  from 
whom  can  be  traced  in  lineal  succession  the 
pedigree  of  a  divine  Augustus?  No  unan- 
swerable riddles  in  the  world  for  them :  no 
cloud-dwellings  and  fire-abysses !  A  very 
solid,  definite  world  this  to  them,  requiring 
solidly-built  ditches  to  drain  it,  and  well-made 
roads  to  cross  it, — which  they  make.  In  fact, 
they  never  had  more  than  one  god  whom  they 
really  worshiped.  The  divinity  of  the  Ro- 
mans in  their  noble  days  was  Rome.  Their 
Jove  was  Jupiter  the  Capitoline,  not  Zeus  the 
Olympian.  The  lesser  gods  were  all  supreme- 
ly occupied,  not  with  each  other,  but  with 
Rome.  Nothing  could  tempt  the  god  Bound- 
ary to  desert  his  ancient  home  on  the  Capito- 
line, or  to  recede  from  the  utmost  pillar  Ro- 
man ambition  set  up  to  him  at  the  furthest 
limit  of  conquest.  Janus  threw  open  his  tern- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         m 

pie-gates  and  poured  thence  a  sudden  flood, 
sweeping  back  the  enemies  of  Rome  ;  where- 
fore in  time  of  war  his  temple  is  ever  open. 
They  had  temples  to  Roman  virtues  (when 
there  were  Roman  virtues) — to  Industry,  to 
Fidelity,  to  Concord,  to  Hope,  Hope  in  the 
destiny  of  Rome,  which  once  the  whole  peo- 
ple thanked  a  defeated  general  for  not  aban- 
doning. Each  house  had  its  lords  and  pro- 
tectors, its  Lares  and  Penates,  guardians  of 
Roman  hearths.  Their  priests  were  no  se- 
cluded worshipers  of  the  Invisible,  but  minis- 
ters of  state,  augurs  of  battle,  sacrificing,  and 
searching  the  will  of  the  gods  by  auguries,  for 
Rome. 

"  In  the  temple  of  Vesta  the  virgin  priest- 
esses guard  the  sacred  fire  for  Rome  ;  and  in 
the  camp  or  on  the  battle-field  the  Roman 
eagles  must  be  guarded  as  religiously  as  the 
Sacred  Fire.  In  their  noblest  legends,  broth- 
er, sister,  wife,  husband,  life,  were  sacrificed 
unhesitatingly  for  Rome,  for  the  republic,  the 
city,  the  country.  Patriotism  was  the  ancient 
religion  of  Rome." 

"And  now?"  said  Siward. 

"  There  is  no  Rome  now,  so  say  the  noblest 
Romans.  The  Roman  senate  is  a  name.  The 
Roman  people  a  mob  of  idle  beggars.  The 
old  temples  stand,  and  incense  is  burned  on 
every  shrine.  But  still  the  Romans  have  only 
one  god  whom  they  really  worship." 


112        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"Who  is  he?"  said  the  boy  eagerly.  "He 
must  be  strong." 

"  Caesar !"  said  the  old  woman  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  I  have  seen  a  temple  to  Julius  Caesar  on 
the  summit  of  the  Velia,  fronting  the  Temple 
of  Jove  in  the  Capitol,"  said  Siward. 

"  Yes ;  he  was  the  first.  But  he  is  only 
adored  now  for  the  sake  of  the  third  ;  the  liv- 
ing Caesar.  Tiberius  Caesar  is  the  real  god 
of  Rome.  Caesar  is  no  shadowy  dweller 
among  the  Dii  Manes,  in  Elysium,  or  any- 
where else.  He  must  be  terrible  and  living. 
He  must  be  able  to  give  the  Roman  daily 
bread  to  eat,  and  provinces  to  plunder." 

"He  has  no  temples?"  asked  Siward;  "I 
have  seen  none." 

"  No,"  replied  Laon.  "  His  worshipers  have 
entreated  permission  to  erect  him  altars  and 
temples ;  but  he  will  not  suffer  it.  Strange  to 
say,  this  divine  man,  whom  all  men  worship, 
does  not  worship  himself.  He  does  not  be- 
lieve himself  divine.  But  this  religion  has  no 
need  of  temples.  There  are  no  mysteries  in 
it.  Its  rites  are  practical  as  the  Roman  roads 
and  ditches.  The  Temple  of  Caesar  is  the 
world.  His  symbols  are  in  every  man's  hand. 
Shall  I  show  you  one  !" 

The  old  man  took  out  a  coin  with  the  head 
of  Tiberius. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         u$ 

"  Patriotism  was  the  religion  of  the  old  Ro- 
mans," he  concluded.  "  The  religion  of  mod- 
ern Romans  is  the  service  of  Caesar.  Of  the 
living  Cassar,"  he  concluded,  emphatically ; 
"  since  even  the  Caesars  continue  not,  by  rea- 
son of  Death." 

"  Death  cannot  be  kept  even  out  of  As- 
gard  !"  observed  the  boy.  "  But  tell  me,  La- 
on,  what  kind  of  a  man  is  Csesar  ?  For  after 
all  he  is  a  man.  I  have  seen  him  talking  with 
our  Csesar  Germanicus  like  other  men.  I 
have  stood  mute  and  motionless  for  hours 
through  the  night,  waiting  on  the  table  be- 
hind him  at  a  feast.  And  I  have  seen  him  eat. 
I  have  seen  his  slaves  cut  up  the  meat  for  him 
into  small  morsels,  after  the  fashion  of  patri- 
cians here,  and  of  babes  among  us.  He  needs 
to  eat,  like  other  men,  and  to  sleep.  But  this 
also  do  they  do  in  Valhalla.  The  monstrous 
boar  which  the  heroes  eat  by  night  is  put  to- 
gether by  day,  out  of  the  bones,  to  be  eaten 
to-morrow.  But  Odin  eats  not.  Wine  is  meat 
and  drink  to  him.  Which  of  our  gods,  or  of 
yours,  is  Tiberius  like  ?  Is  he  like  Odin,  or 
Baldur  ?  Or  like  Apollo,  who  seems  the  great 
god  of  your  Greece — the  god  with  the  lyre, 
warrior  and  poet  and  king  and  sea-god,  who 
killed  the  dragon?" 

Laon's  eyes  twinkled  with  a  strange  light 
as  he  glanced  round  to  see  no  one  was  near. 


114        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  It  is  not  always  safe  to  speak  one's  mind 
of  the  gods.  They  are  said  to  use  lightnings 
instead  of  swords.  And  this  god,  if  he  has  no 
lightnings,  has  axes  and  rods,  which,  to  our 
mortal  eyes,  hit  with  more  precision  and  cer- 
tainty. There  is  a  crime  called  the  Wounded 
Majesty  of  Cassar.  A  disrespectful  word 
spoken  against  Cassar  is  the  blasphemy  of  this 
Roman  religion.  For  this  blasphemy  there  is 
no  expiation.  Which  of  the  gods  is  Tiberius 
Csesar  like?"  he  continued,  recurring  to  Si- 
ward's  question.  "  Did  you  not  tell  me  your 
Odin  had  a  raven  which  brings  him  tidings 
of  all  that  is  said  and  done  throughout  the 
world?  Tiberius  Csesar  has  a  countless  num- 
ber of  such  ravens.  They  are  called  Inform- 
ers. They  wear  no  livery  of  state.  But  they 
are  the  chief  police  of  the  state.  They  watch 
by  every  hearth.  You  might  be  such  a  raven 
for  Germanicus,  if  you  wished.  It  is  said  the 
young  Cassar  does  not  too  well  love  the  reign- 
ing Cassar.  It  is  certain  Tiberius  Cassar  hates 
Germanicus.  You  might  hear  one  day  some 
careless  word,  and  report  it  to  the  Emper- 
or. And  for  that  word  you  might  earn  free- 
dom, riches,  honors — honors  such  as  Caesar 
can  give." 

"  I  earn  such  honors  as  those !"  exclaimed 
Siward.  "  In  Germany  we  call  that  treach- 
ery. Does  Tiberius  choose  to  be  served  thus  ? 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         ng 

This  is  not  like  Baldur  or  any  noble  being. 
Can  any  love  him  and  serve  him  freely  ?" 

"  I  certainly  never  heard  that  any  one  loved 
Tiberius  Caesar,  unless  it  be  the  Empress 
Mother,  who  won  the  sceptre  for  him,"  said 
Laon  ;  "  or  that  any  served  him  freely.  Nor 
did  I  ever  hear  that  he  loved  any  one,  or 
sought  that  any  one  should  love  him  or  serve 
him  freely.  I  myself  once  heard  him  say  in 
Greek  as  he  came  out  of  the  senate,  '  Hoiv  fit 
these  men  are  for  slavery'  But  he  can  pay ; 
and  he  can  slay.  What  could  his  worshipers 
want  more  ?  For  what  is  this  love  you  speak 
of?  Are  your  gods  or  ours  always  or  alto- 
gether good,  that  they  should  be  loved  ?  At 
least  what  we  should  call  good.  Are  morals 
the  same  for  gods  and  men  ?  Is  Tiberius  Cse- 
sar  to  be  judged  as  you  and  I  should  judge 
ourselves?  The  gods  are  powerful.  Caesar 
is  powerful.  Is  not  that  enough  ?" 

"  Is  he  the  god  of  all  Romans"  asked  Si- 
ward,  perplexed. 

"  Some  Romans  think  they  worship  our 
gods — the  gods  of  Greece,"  said  Laon;  "as 
they  think  they  understand  the  poets  and  phi- 
losophers of  Greece,  and  even  make  Greek 
poetry  and  philosophy  themselves.  They 
profess  great  reverence  for  our  Athens,  and 
like  to  be  considered  fellow-citizens  and  fellow- 
worshipers  with  the  Greeks  who  made  the 


Il6        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

beautiful  old  statues  and  built  the  beautiful 
old  temples.  But  I  doubt  if  the  tribes  of  men 
can  worship  each  other's  gods.  They  borrow 
the  names.  But  through  all  the  Grecian  dra- 
peries comes  the  head,  not  of  Zeus,  the  cloud- 
compeller,  throned  in  majestic  calm,  but  the 
strong  soldier's  face  of  the  Capitoline  Jove. 

"  Similarly,  if  you  tried  to  adore  our  Apollo, 
your  heart  would  not  see  the  joyous  Apollo, 
the  radiant,  the  far-darting,  with  the  lyre  and 
silver  bow,  but  Baldur  your  beautiful,  with  a 
divine  sadness  on  his  face,  wept  by  all  creat- 
ures, with  the  shadow  of  your  clouds  on  his 
brow.  But  every  religion  has  lesser  gods. 
Among  those  of  the  Romans  there  is  Juno 
Moneta,  the  Counselor.  She  had  her  shrine 
of  old  on  the  Citadel  of  Rome,  opposite  the 
Capitol.  It  is  now  the  Roman  Mint.  This 
temple  is  erected  still  in  the  citadel  of  many 
a  heart.  Money  must  ever  be  a  god  of  nations 
and  men,  among  whom  the  Temple  of  Hope 
is  in  ruins." 

"  The  gods  of  men  are  diverse,  my  mother 
said,  as  their  fathers  and  their  dwellings.  Let 
each  keep  to  his  own." 

"  Your  mother  is  wise.  But  so  think  not 
the  Romans.  There  is  a  restless  searching 
among  them  hither  and  thither  for  new  gods, 
especially  among  women.  Rome  is  full  of 
new  temples  and  new  rites,  brought  from  the 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED,         uj 

ends  of  the  earth,  from  Egypt,  from  Persia. 
Some  Roman  noble  matrons  have  even  em- 
braced a  gloomy  Syrian  superstition  peculiar 
to  a  tribe  called  Jews,  a  misanthropic  race, 
who  hate  all  other  races  of  men — will  not  even 
eat  with  them,  nor  enter  the  temples,  nor  as- 
sist at  game  or  race ;  and  in  their  own  sanc- 
tuaries have  no  symbol  or  sacred  image,  but 
an  ancient  book,  which  they  kiss,  and  seem  to 
listen  to  as  if  it  were  divine.  Beyond  this  I 
know  not  that  they  have  any  other  shrine, 
unless  it  be  the  shrine  of  the  Mint  goddess. 
Money-lenders  many  of  them  are,  with  a  mar- 
vellous faculty  for  growing  rich.  What  beauty 
or  good  there  is  in  them,  or  in  their  worship, 
it  is  difficult  to  say.  But  women  are  capri- 
cious ;  and  this  worship  of  Caesar  does  not 
seem  to  suit  the  hearts  of  women." 

Siward  looked  earnestly  into  Laon's  face, 
as  he  was  wont  to  do  when  perplexed  with 
his  words,  to  read  the  meaning  in  his  eyes. 

"  Is  Caesar  your  god,  Laon  ?"  he  asked  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  I  told  you  he  had  forbidden  that  men 
should  worship  him.  Should  I  disobey  the 
decree  of  Caesar  ?  He  has  no  temple.  How 
can  I  burn  incense  to  him  ?" 

"Laon,"  said  the  boy,  "in  what  temple  do 
you  burn  incense  ?" 

The  old  man  paused  a  moment. 


118        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  In  the  nearest,  my  son,"  he  replied  at 
length  concisely.  "  Do  not  the  immortals 
know  that  I  am  lame?" 

Siward  looked  dissatisfied. 

"What  matters  it,"  Laon  continued,  "in 
what  temple  an  old  slave  like  Laon  worships  ? 
Have  my  vows  and  supplications  brought 
down  such  divine  favors  on  me,  that  any  need 
seek  to  imitate  them  ?" 

"  Laon,"  the  boy  replied,  in  his  straigthfor- 
ward  way,  "your  gods,  I  think,  have  given 
you  the  best  gifts.  They  have  made  you  pa- 
tient and  kind  and  wise,  and  strong  in  heart. 
I  wish  to  know  your  gods." 

"  Boy,"  said  the  old  man,  gravely,  "  you 
have  scarcely  yet  needed  the  barber's  skill. 
Shall  I  tell  you  in  a  moment  all  the  secrets  of 
seventy  years  ?  There  is  something  we  call 
love  of  wisdom,  which,  when  old  faiths  die, 
may  replace  them  perhaps  with  what  they 
meant.  But  while  the  old  faith  lives,  let  it 
live.  The  meaning  is  there,  if  veiled.  And 
if  it  make  the  life  brave  and  pure,  what  can 
philosophy  do  more?  Our  wisest  said,  De- 
stroy not  the  old  legends,  the  truth  is  in  them. 

"  But  come,"  he  added,  turning  the  subject, 
"  I  will  show  you  what  the  divine  government 
of  this  Caesar  is  like." 

And  he  took  from  a  drawer  a  cast  from  the 
cameo  of  the  Apotheosis  of  Augustus.  Si- 
ward  looked  at  it  long. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         ug 

Above,  the  Emperor  enthroned  in  easy 
majesty  among  the  gods,  beside  the  divine 
city  Rome,  with  her  crown  of  towers,  himself 
placing  on  his  own  head  the  laurel  crown. 
Around,  Roman  soldiers,  chariots,  and  horses, 
triumphant  men,  a  beautiful  woman  with  the 
horn  of  Plenty,  and  happy  children. 

Below,  the  vanquished,  prostrate,  half- 
crushed,  under  yokes,  dragged  by  the  hair, 
fettered,  seeking  to  hide  their  faces  in  clasped 
hands.  No  appeal  to  Caesar  for  them,  nothing 
but  to  be  trampled  under  his  feet.  To  the 
vanquished  Woe ! 

The  boy  turned  away. 

He  never  forgot  that  this  Woe  reached 
down  to  slavery,  and  to  the  possibility  of  the 
death  of  the  Cross. 

"  No  appeal  for  us  to  this  god !"  he  mur- 
mured at  length.  "  But  in  our  north,  Herman 
the  Deliverer  lives  still.  Our  gods  dwell  in 
the  north  and  look  southward.  When  we 
pray  we  turn  to  the  north." 

And  he  resumed  his  work  at  the  metals 
with  redoubled  purpose. 

The  old  man  understood,  but  did  not  re- 
monstrate. It  was  some  time  before  either 
spoke  again.  Siward  was  earnestly  bending 
over  his  work,  so  earnestly  that  he  did  not 
observe  a  soft  footstep  approach  the  door,  un- 
til something  of  unusual  light  fell  on  him,  and 


120        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

looking  up  suddenly  he  saw  a  young  maiden 
standing  before  him.  She  stood,  erect  and 
radiant,  entirely  clothed  in  white,  in  marked 
contrast  to  the  languishing,  jewelled,  per- 
fumed women  of  her  time.  Not  an  ornament 
nor  a  jewel  drew  the  eye  from  the  stately 
grace  of  her  figure  or  the  delicate  beauty  of 
her  face.  There  was  no  color  about  her,  ex- 
cept the  golden  glow  on  the  brown  hair  and 
the  soft  flush  of  youth  on  the  cheek,  no  sparkle 
except  the  beaming  of  her  eyes,  when  at  rare 
moments  the  long  lashes  were  raised  and  she 
looked  up. 

Yet  it  seemed  as  if  her  presence  brought 
the  light  of  the  open  heavens  into  the  dark 
workshop.  The  whiteness  of  her  stole  was  not 
like  any  whiteness  he  had  seen  on  earth,  Si- 
ward  thought.  It  was  like  the  radiance  of 
clouds  in  the  clearest  moonlight,  or  of  swans 
basking  in  the  sunshine  among  the  green 
shadows  of  a  river.  And  so,  with  her  move- 
ments. Like  a  cloud  or  a  swan,  she  had  float- 
ed on  his  sight. 

Instinctively  he  laid  down  his  tools,  as  if  in 
an  imperial  presence,  and  stood  before  her, 
but  with  eyes  that  did  not  venture  to  seek 
hers.  He  stood  bathed  in  a  heavenly  light. 
Until  she  spoke ;  and  the  tones  of  the  sweet, 
girlish  voice  seemed  to  wake  him  out  of  one 
bright  dream  into  another.  At  first  he  com- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         I2i 

prehended  nothing  but  the  music  of  the  tones. 
The}'  were  music — music  such  as  he  had  nev- 
er heard  before.  He  no  more  thought  of 
words  than  if  he  had  been  listening  to  some 
far-off  melody  of  flutes  across  the  waters,  until 
old  Laon's  voice  broke  in  on  the  vision. 

She  was  speaking ;  and  speaking  of  him. 

"  Clcelia  the  Vestal  has  come  hither,"  Laon 
said,  "to  thank  thee  for  rescuing  Clcelia  Dio- 
dora,  her  sister." 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  thee  ? — thou  hast 
done  well  and  bravely  for  us,"  she  said,  with 
a  simple  kindness.  "  The  Vestals  have  some 
rights  and  special  privileges.  If  by  chance 
we  meet  a  criminal  on  his  way  to  execution, 
we  can  demand  his  pardon." 

A  great  rush  of  hope  came  into  the  captive 
boy's  heart,  and  brought  the  power  of  man- 
hood into  his  face.  He  raised  his  eyes,  looked 
proudly  into  the  pure,  sweet  face,  and  said, 
calmly, — 

"  I  am  no  criminal.  I  am  no  captive  cap- 
tured in  fair  fight.  We  were  betrayed.  We 
were  born  free.  But,  now,  I  am  a  slave  in 
the  household  of  Csesar  Germanicus." 

A  cloud  pased  over  her  countenance. 

"  The  house  of  the  Caesars  is  above  all  laws 
and  rights,"  she  said.  "  Would  it  had  been 
any  one  else !" 

She  stood  with  clasped  hands,  mournfully 
6 


122         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

cast  down.  He  would  have  given  much  to 
recall  his  words,  and  brink  back  the  radiance 
to  her  face.  At  length  he  ventured  to  speak. 

"  Let  not  my  evil  chance  darken  thy  heart, 
lady,"  he  said.  "  Others  have  won  back  free- 
dom :  and  so  will  I,  for  me  and  mine.  Liberty 
is  better  conquered  than  given." 

She  looked  up,  and  her  face  shone  once 
more.  There  was  a  will  in  his  words  which 
made  them  prophetic. 

"  Brave  words,"  she  said,  and  true.  If  I 
can  do  anything  to  set  thee  free,  I  will.  If  not, 
thou  wilt  do  it ;  and  that  will  be  better  for 
thee." 

And  with  a  smile,  which  to  him  was  like  a 
sacred  augury  of  victory,  she  went  out  of  the 
workshop ;  and  he  watched  her  glide,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  balconies,  down  the  narrow 
crowded  lane.  The  way  was  made  for  her, 
he  thought,  among  the  throng,  not  by  the  lie- 
tor,  but  by  her  own  beauty.  She  passed 
through  the  throng  like  a  sunbeam. 

Siward  returned  to  his  work,  and  lelt  as  if 
it  had  been  consecrated  by  incense  and  sacri- 
fice. It  was  not  till  after  a  long  silence  that 
he  said, — 

"  Laon,  she  is  no  worshiper  of  Tiberius  Cae- 
sar, nor  of  the  Mint  goddess." 

"No,"  said  the  old  man;  "she  lives  in  a 
lovely  vision — herself  the  loveliest  part  of  it. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         ^3 

Her  religion  is  the  religion  of  old  Rome.  Day 
and  night  she  guards  the  Sacred  Fire  for  her 
country,  for  Rome  ;  and  knows  not  that  the 
Rome  she  spends  her  life  for  lives  no  more. 
The  fire  burns  on  the  altar ;  but  the  divinity, 
the  Patria,  for  whose  sake  it  burns,  is  dust 
and  ashes !" 

So  the  weeks  and  months  passed  on  for  Si- 
ward.  Not  slowly,  or  altogether  sadly.  He 
felt  each  day  the  bracing  sense  of  power  gain- 
ed ;  gained  for  what  to  him  were  the  noblest 
ends.  And  meanwhile  he  was  gaining  uncon- 
sciously other  powers  higher  than  he  could 
estimate.  Stores  of  wisdom  from  the  old  civ- 
ilization were  penetrating  his  mind  through 
the  words  of  old  Laon. 

He  was  still  in  the  dawn.  Continually  new 
fields  of  fact  and  thought  were  opening  on 
him.  Every  day  the  world  grew  larger  and 
wider  to  him,  as  the  past  of  Greece  and  Rome 
and  of  the  old  kingdoms  of  the  world  came 
into  the  light  before  him. 

Yet  still  he  stood  before  the  threshold  of  a 
home.  The  sacred  world  lay  still  for  him  in 
the  home  behind  him,  to  which  he  meant  to 
return,  with  his  mother  and  his  sister,  and 
make  it  beautiful  with  all  the  treasures  of 
those  new  worlds. 

Clcelia  Diodora  often  came  and  sat  in  the  lit- 
tle room  behind  the  shop  and  listened  to  the 


124  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

talk  of  the  two  in  the  workshop.  And  some- 
times she  sang,  in  her  rich  southern  voice, 
lays  and  legends  of  old  Rome. 

He  liked  to  listen.  But  no  such  magic 
came  with  the  poor  child's  tones  to  his  heart 
as  with  the  slightest  murmur  of  Clcelia  the 
Vestal. 

Only  to  the  old  man  the  poor  deformed 
child  remained  dearest  of  all.  Sometimes  he 
would  lay  her  small  delicate  hand  on  his  fore- 
head, with  an  Oriental  sign  of  homage,  and 
say,— 

"  Diodora,  my  god-given,  thou  and  I  are  in 
disguise  here.  Princely,  but  no  one  knows 
us.  What  matters  it?  Does  not  our  wise 
man  say  we  are  in  prison  here?  Have  we 
not  heard  a  song  few  understand,  and  under- 
stood ?  But  I  too,"  he  repeated,  quoting 
words  well  known  to  them  both,  "  '  consider 
myself  a  fellow-servant  of  the  swans,  and  sa- 
cred to  the  same  god,  who,  when  they  must 
die,  though  they  have  been  use*  to  sing  be- 
fore, sing  then  more  than  ever.'  Read  to  me 
the  dying  song  of  that  swan-like  soul  of  our 
old  Athens." 

He  had  taught  her  the  rare  accomplishment 
— for  a  girl — of  reading.  And  of  all  reading, 
he  liked  best  to  listen  to  the  Phcedo  in  her 
girlish  tones,  how  "justice  and  goodness  and 
beauty  are  something,  and  really  exist ;"  and 


VICTOR Y  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         125 

"  the  soul,  which  is  invisible,  from  the  prison 
of  the  body  goes  to  another  place  like  itself — 
excellent,  pure,  and  invisible." 

"  That  barbarian  lad  is  brave  and  true,  and 
loves  to  learn,"  he  said ;  but  we  have  to  lead 
him  a  little  further  before  he  can  understand 
our  swan's  singing1." 

But  on  the  heart  of  Clcelia  the  Vestal  the 
shadows  fell  more  frequently.  She  tried,  but 
could  not  effect  Siward's  liberation.  As  she 
fed  the  fires  in  the  Temple,  the  irremediable 
sorrows  around  her,  of  Cloelia  her  suffering 
sister,  and  of  Siward  the  slave,  and  through 
them  of  the  great  suffering  world,  pressed 
closer  and  more  heavily  on  her  heart. 

And  with  these,  from  time  to  time,  came 
rumors  of  the  wickedness  of  the  city ;  a  sti- 
fling fear  that  the  Rome  whose  sacred  hearth- 
fire  she  kept  was  not  the  free-born  Rome  of 
old,  but  something  very  different — more  like 
the  city  in  the  Apotheosis  of  Augustus,  with 
stony  stateliness  trampling  the  oppressed 
world  under  her  feet. 

And  with  this  fear,  now  and  then,  came 
lovely,  innocent  dreams  of  some  hearth  she 
might  have  kept  bright  and  pure,  and  made  a 
source  of  light  and  joy. 

Every  evening  Siward  passed  by  the  palace 
of  Tiberius  Caesar  on  the  Palatine,  and  thought 


126        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  the  picture  of  the  divine  government  of 
Augustus  with  a  defiant  heart. 

"  God  of  this  wicked,  cruel,  idle,  mocking 
Rome,"  he  thought ;  "  but  not  of  us,  the  sons 
of  the  North.  For  us  lives  Herman  the  De- 
liverer." 

With  this  hope  in  him,  the  sarcasms  of  his 
fellow-slaves  fell  harmlessly.  And  with  a 
strong,  light  heart  he  went  on  to  learn  how 
to  fashion  the  liberating  sword. 

In  many  ways  he  was  right. 

All  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth  was  in- 
deed not  given  to  Tiberius  Cassar. 

One  universal  Empire  was  at  hand ;  but  it 
was  not  his. 

The  Deliverer  who  could  unbind  the  many 
burdens  and  bid  the  oppressed  go  free,  was 
indeed  on  earth. 

But  it  was  not  Herman. 

The  King  who  was  to  demand  and  receive 
the  homage  of  the  world,  and  overthrow  the 
palace  of  the  Palatine  and  the  images  of  the 
Capitoline,  through  many  patient  years  to 
come,  was  consecrating  and  ennobling  the 
labor  of  the  humblest  workshop  in  the  Su- 
burra  or  the  Velabrum. 

The  kingdom  of  God  was  at  hand. 

But  its  foundations  were  being  laid  in  the 
carpenter's  workshop  at  Nazareth. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


HAT  fine  fortune  has  the  New 
Year  brought  thee  ?"  said  old 
Laon,  looking  from  his  work  as 
Siward  entered  the  workshop  on 
New  Year's  Day,  his  honest  face  radiant  with 
life  and  hope.  "  You  look  indeed  like  one  of 
your  happy  Hyperboreans.  Make  the  most 
of  to-day  by  all  means.  Tiberius  Cassar  has 
forbidden  the  New  Year's  presents  to  be  con- 
tinued beyond  to-day.  Boy,  have  they  been 
making  thee  glad  with  honey-cakes,  and  figs, 
and  dates  ;  or  what  good  news  has  cheered 
thee  ?" 

"  Nothing,  but  that  Cassar  Germanicus  is 
to  leave  this  idle,  miserable  Rome  for  his  gov- 
ernment in  the  East,  and  we  go  with  him." 

"  Are  thy  happy  fields  then  in  the  East  ? 
Ours  were  in  the  West,  or  beyond  the  North 
Wind.  But,  indeed,  it  matters  little  where. 
Anywhere  but  where  we  have  been,  or  where 
we  are." 

(127) 


128        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  We  are  going  first  to  thy  Greece,  Laon," 
said  Siward. 

"  To  my  Greece  ?  My  Greece  died  and  was 
buried  long  years  ago  ;  or  rather  was  not  bu- 
ried, which  is  worse.  Dost  thou  not  know 
that  nations,  like  ourselves,  die  a  thousand 
times  before  they  are  said  to  die.  First  the 
child  dies,  then  the  boy,  then  the  man.  At 
last  old  age  must  die,  and  with  it  we  our- 
selves. So  with  Greece.  First  the  gods  died 
— that  is,  passed  among  the  shades — then  the 
heroes,  then  the  men.  Dost  thou  think  to 
find  Apolla  in  Greece,  or  Achilles,  or  the  he- 
roes of  Thermopylae,  or  the  wise  men  of  the 
Grove,  of  the  Porch,  or  of  the  Garden,  that 
thou  rejoicest  thus  to  quit  old  Laon  and  his 
workshop  in  the  Suburra  ?  As  glad  to  go  as 
to  come.  Like  the  rest,  like  the  rest !" 

Siward's  countenance  fell.  He  said  little 
in  reply,  but  settled  down  quietly  to  his  work, 
knowing  well  by  this  time  that  the  way  to 
quiet  his  old  friend's  temper  when  ruffled  was 
to  let  him  have  his  grumble  out.  Moreover, 
when  he  put  them  to  himself,  he  found  Laon's 
questions  rather  unanswerable.  It  was  not 
clear  what  good  he  expected  from  the  change. 
A  slave  in  the  Palatine,  he  would  be  equally 
a  slave  in  the  Acropolis  or  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean. It  was  only  clear  that  it  would  be  a 
relief  to  escape  from  this  Rome.  This,  and 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

a  vague  hope  of  learning  something  which 
might  bring  him  nearer  freedom  and  Her- 
man, were  what  had  made  him  glad. 

Old  Laon  did  not  recover  all  that  day,  and 
dismissed  the  boy  early. 

But  the  next  morning,  when  Siward  en- 
tered the  workshop,  he  was  greeted  with  a 
grim  smile. 

"  I  also  am  going  to  the  East  with  Caesar 
Germanicus,"  Laon  said.  "  Not  so  easy  to 
escape  an  old  tyrant  like  me.  Clcelius  Tul- 
lus  has  let  me  to  young  Caesar,  to  be  one  of 
the  armorers  of  the  expedition.  It  will  bring 
my  master  a  good  sum,  and  at  the  end  I  am 
to  have  my  freedom,  and  perhaps  may  do 
something  for  thee  and  for  others.  At  An- 
tioch  I  had  some  who  knew  me  once.  Who 
knows  but  we  might  have  a  workshop  there 
together,  in  Antioch,  the  third  city  in  the 
world  (for  beauty,  the  first) — and  find  thee 
there  a  bright-eyed  Syrian  bride  ?" 

This  was  very  far  from  the  goal  of  Siward's 
ambition.  To  him  every  stroke  of  work  was 
a  step  on  the  way  to  Herman,  to  the  pine 
forests,  where  smith  was  a  title  of  honor,  and 
the  hammer  and  anvil  would  be  as  much 
needed  and  as  much  esteemed  as  the  spear 
or  the  sword  in  the  liberation  of  his  people. 

He  had  thought  Laon  understood  this ;  but 
now  the  old  man's  kindly  dreams  of  an  old 
6* 


1 30        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

age  in  Syria,  to  which  he  was  to  be  as  a  son, 
fell  painfully  on  him,  and  he  worked  on  si- 
lently with  a  feeling  of  one  who  was  purchas- 
ing a  treasure  by  false  coin. 

Laon's  talk  meantime  flowed  far  away  into 
fond  descriptions  of  Antioch  as  he  remem- 
bered it  in  his  childhood,  before  he  was  or- 
phaned and  sold  to  pay  his  father's  debts. 
The  long  sweep  of  the  Orontes  winding  un- 
der the  hills  ;  the  colonnades  traversing  the 
city  ;  the  groves  on  the  hill-sides,  with  their 
temples,  and  fountains,  and  statues  ;  the 
strange  blending  of  nations — not  crushed  into 
monotony  by  the  overpowering  presence  of 
the  metropolis  and  the  emperor,  as  at  Rome, 
but  free  to  develop  in  the  most  vivid  colors 
and  in  the  richest  forms  all  varieties  of  life — 
Syrians,  Greeks,  Jews,  Egyptians,  not  stiffened 
Latins,  but  all  equally  at  home  and  luxuriat- 
ing in  that  wilderness  of  beauty.  On  all  this, 
glowing  with  the  sunshine  of  childhood,  con- 
trasted with  the  monotonous  years  of  drudg- 
ery along  the  gloomy  paths  between,  and  yet 
to  be  lit  up  with  the  after  glow  of  a  freedom 
not  altogether  too  late  restored,  the  old  man 
dwelt,  until  Siward's  honesty  could  stand  it 
no  longer,  and  with  northern  abruptness — all 
the  more  abrupt  because  of  the  pain  of  giving 
pain — he  exclaimed, — 

"  Laon,.this  city  of  pleasures  is  no  home  for 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         131 

me.  I  have  a  mother  and  a  young  sister  to 
guard ;  perchance  a  father,  in  the  North ; 
certainly  a  country.  If  ever  I  am  free,  and 
can  do  anything  worth  doing,  I  am  free  for 
Germany,  to  work  and  fight  for  Herman  and 
the  children  of  my  people." 

To  his  surprise,  the  old  man  betrayed  no 
distress  or  displeasure.  He  only  said,  in  the 
words  of  a  wise  man  of  old, — 

"  '  We  step  into  the  same  rivers,  and  we  do  not 
step  into  them'  You  think  Germany  is  the 
Germany  you  left.  I,  foolish  old  man,  have 
been  thinking  of  Antioch  as  the  Antioch  I 
left.  You  of  yourself  as  the  boy  made  cap- 
tive on  the  Rhine.  I  of  myself  as  the  child 
that  wove  garlands  on  the  Orontes.  It  mat- 
ters not.  Let  both  keep  their  dreams.  The 
Rhine  and  the  Orontes  are  flowing  still — have 
been  flowing  all  the  time.  Time  will  show 
which  tide  is  the  strongest." 

But  when  Clcelia  Diodora  heard  of  the  pro- 
posed departure,  the  little  color  in  her  pale 
face  forsook  it  altogether. 

All  the  quiet  hidden  hours  in  the  little  dark 
room  over ;  the  sweet  peaceful  hours,  out  of 
sight  of  every  one,  and  within  hearing  of 
the  old  man's  talk,  and  of  those  wild  north- 
ern sagas  of  Siward's  which  had  bordered 
her  world  with  a  forest-land  of  mystery  ;  the 
singing  of  the  old  Latin  lays  to  those  two 


1 32         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

who  loved  to  listen  ;  the  readings  in  the  wise 
books  of  old  ! 

Moreover,  between  Clcelia  and  Siguna  had 
been  growing-  a  quiet  strong  affection.  Si- 
guna, the  homely,  imaginative  German  moth- 
er, had  been  less  repelled  than  the  people  of 
the  sunny  artistic  South  by  her  deformity. 

The  Gothic  poetry,  with  its  humor  and  its 
pathos,  with  its  power  of  interweaving  the 
grotesque  and  quaint  into  its  grandeur  and 
beauty,  lay  hidden  in  her  heart.  She  had  a 
way  of  thinking  of  the  poor  girl  with  her 
dark,  wistful  eyes  and  her  shrunken  face,  as 
of  one  of  the  ^Esir  disguised  for  some  mys- 
terious purpose.  Sometimes  she  would  say 
to  Siward, — 

"  Those  eyes  are  the  only  part  of  Clcelia 
Diodora  that  really  belong  to  her.  All  the 
rest  is  a  mask." 

Little  Hilda  also  had  found  out  the  treas- 
ures of  imagery  and  legend  in  Clcelia,  and 
would  sit  listening  to  her  enrapt  for  hours ; 
so  that  between  the  captive  mother  and  child 
and  the  maiden — captive  in  the  poor  crippled 
frame  with  a  life-long  captivity  —  a  strong 
triple  bond  had  been  woven. 

And  now  as  Laon  told  her  of  Antioch,  and 
how  all  this  was  to  be  rent  away  from  her,  she 
sat  pale  and  speechless,  with  clasped  hands. 

"  Child,"  said  the  old  man — "  Diodora,  my 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         ^3 

god-given — I  am  going  for  thy  sake.  I  am 
going  to  earn  freedom,  perchance  to  make  a 
home  for  thee.  Thy  parents  will  find  some 
one  to  adopt,  and  then  may  be  will  spare  thee 
once  more  to  the  old  man  who  thought  thee 
worth  saving  of  old." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  The  sea !"  she  cried  :  "  storms,  shipwrecks, 
perils  of  strange  lands,  of  robbers,  of  pirates !" 

"  Child,"  he  said,  trying  to  smile,  "  there  are 
no  pirates  now.  Have  I  not  told  thee  how 
the  great  Pompey  swept  the  seas  clear  of 
them  more  than  half  a  century  since  !  Roads 
through  all  the  world,  pirates  swept  from  the 
seas.  Thy  countrymen  have  done  their  work 
well  in  making  journeying  safe.  If  only  they 
had  better  ends  to  journey  for.  Thou  wouldst 
not  fear  these  perils  for  thyself?" 

"  For  myself,  no,"  she  said.  "  What  worse 
have  I  to  fear,  for  myself?"  Then  kindling 
with  the  enthusiasm  which  always  lay  deep 
within  her — 

"You  are  going,"  she  said,  "and  going  to 
Athens  !  To  the  fields  where  the  bravest  men 
fight  and  the  sweetest  singers  sang,  and  the 
olive-groves  where  Plato  taught  and  listened 
to  Socrates  ;  perhaps  to  the  sea-shore  where 
Thetis  came  up  and  with  soft  hands  soothed 
her  son,  grieving  from  the  height  of  her  di- 
vine deathlessness  that  he  should  suffer — 


134        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

he  who  knew  his  life  was  but  for  a  little 
while !" 

"  We  shall  not  hear  them,  child !"  said  the 
old  man.  Then  looking  fondly  at  her,  he 
added,  "  Thou  perchance  mightest !" 

"  Laon,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "  by  the  Foun- 
tain of  Egeria  dwell  a  people  of  a  strange 
Eastern  race.  I  was  sitting  at  our  garden- 
door  the  other  day  when  one  of  them,  a  ven- 
erable gray-headed  old  man,  was  resting  on 
the  slopes  outside.  He  told  me  a  strange 
story  of  One  they  are  looking  for — have  been 
looking  for  more  than  thousands  of  years — a 
King,  to  set  all  the  wrongs  of  the  world  right. 
They  have  been  waiting  for  Him  a  thousand 
years ;  but  the  strange  thing  is,  now  they  feel 
sure  He  is  near." 

The  old  man  smiled  with  a  mournful  con- 
tempt. 

"  Only  a  Jew  !"  he  said.  "  Who  heeds  what 
the  Jews  say?  A  race  of  misanthropes  and 
money-lenders." 

"  Some  noble  matrons  have  learned  to  wor- 
ship with  them,"  she  replied.  "  So  the  old 
man  said." 

Laon  looked  in  alarm  into  the  girl's  face. 

"  Do  not  fear  for  me,"  she  said,  answering 
his  look.  "  His  words  only  made  me  think 
of  the  Bound  Prometheus,  of  lo  wandering 
hither  and  thither  in  wanderings  without  rest, 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         135 

and  of  the  promise  of  a  Deliverer  to  be  born 
of  her." 

"  Take  heed,  child,"  said  the  old  man — 
"  take  heed.  Some  women  are  wicked — some 
Roman  women  have  great  burdens  of  crime 
on  their  souls — and  therefore  are  superstitious. 
Many  women  have  a  great  burden  of  sorrow, 
and  therefore  are  superstitious.  And  all 
women  have  a  dangerous  longing  for  happi- 
ness, and  are  therefore  superstitious.  But 
thee,  all  the  wisdom  I  have  taught  thee  to 
love  will  guard  from  such  delusions  —  from 
the  degradation  of  becoming  a  prey  to  some 
base  superstition  or  dark  magic  of  Egypt  or 
Syria!  Thou  hast  walked  too  much  in  the 
daylight  beneath  the  Porch  and  in  the  Grove 
to  choose  these  damp  and  noisome  caves." 

"Stay  and  guard  me  then,  Laon,"  she  said, 
smiling  ;  "  or  come  quickly  back.  It  was  only 
your  words  that  made  me  think  again  of  the 
Jew.  I  wondered  (it  may  have  been  a  foolish 
thought)  whether  all  these  great  Roads  you 
spoke  of  have  been  made  straight,  and  all  the 
ways  of  the  Great  Sea  have  been  swept  clear, 
for  some  Great  One,  some  Deliverer.  The 
world  seems  to  me  so  very  restless  and  sad, 
wandering  hither  and  thither,  like  lo,  seeking 
rest  and  finding  none.  It  came  into  my  mind 
whether  some  Deliverer  might  be  near.  There 
are  so  many  who  suffer ;  but  until  that  Jew 


136        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

spoke,  I  do  not  remember  to  have  met  with 
any  who  had  such  a  hope.  And  then  it  flash- 
ed on  me,  what  if  you  should  come  on  traces 
of  the  Deliverer  in  the  wonderful,  mystical 
old  East?  The  Son  of  lo,  who  was  to  deliver 
the  Titan  from  the  rock  to  which  he  was 
bound  and  from  the  eagle  tearing  his  heart, 
was  to  come  out  of  Egypt !  And  this  proph- 
ecy of  the  old  Jew — it  does  seem  strange!" 

"  Not  strange  at  all,"  said  the  old  man, 
sharply.  "  The  legend  of  lo  has  been  mixed 
with  other  Egyptian  legends  of  Isis,  and  with 
the  Apis  worship.  And  the  Jews  were  a  race 
of  slaves  who  escaped  from  Egypt.  Born 
slaves,  they  had  no  golden  age  in  the  past, 
and  so  they  made  it  in  the  future.  Not  strange 
at  all,  Diodora — not  strange  at  all." 

But  Siward  listened,  as  he  went  silently 
on  with  his  work,  and  wondered,  pondering 
many  things  in  his  mind. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


HEY  left  the  city  by  the  Appian 
Way,  bordered  by  its  miles  of  tombs 
— Siguna,  Siward,  and  the  child  Hil- 
da, among  the  other  slaves  of  Ger- 
manicus.  Only  a  few  months  before,  they  had 
entered  Rome  as  an  unknown  region  of  en- 
chantment. They  left  the  mistress  of  the 
world  with  no  diminished  faith  in  her  witch- 
eries, but  with  a  terrible  knowledge  out  of 
what  elements  her  cup  of  enchantments  was 
mixed. 

As  the  lines  of  temples  which  crowned  her 
hills  faded  from  their  eyes,  Siward  thought 
how  Laon  had  said  that  the  Romans  had  but 
one  god — that  all  those  temples  where  men 
burned  incense  to  legendary  divinities  or  to 
personifications  of  virtues  were,  in  fact,  but 
porticoes  of  the  true  temple,  the  Palace  on 
the  Palatine,  whence  Tiberius  Cassar  sent  his 
ravens  into  every  home,  to  bring  him  tidings 
of  men's  words  and  deeds. 

(137) 


1 38        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Yet  the  hearts  of  the  German  captives  were 
less  bitter  than  when,  on  that  May  day  in  the 
past  year,  on  the  Flaminian  Way,  they  had 
trodden  the  last  weary  steps  of  the  Great 
Northern  Road. 

Siguna's  thoughts  went  fondly  back  to  one 
patrician  house  on  the  Ccelian,  where  she 
and  her  child  were"  at  that  hour  missed  and 
mourned  by  as  sorrowful  and  lonely  a  heart 
as  any  among  the  countless  bands  of  captives 
throughout  the  world. 

And  in  Siward's  heart  at  least  one  pure  vi- 
sion remained  ;  one  sweet  maidenly  form,  one 
pure  hallowing  presence,  beautiful  within  and 
without,  was  enshrined  in  his  inmost  thoughts. 
Far  indeed  above  him  as  the  Norna  maidens, 
Cloelia  Pulchra  the  Vestal,  like  a  Norn  her- 
self, secretly  poured  the  waters  from  the  liv*- 
ing  wells,  not  only  on  the  shrine  of  Vesta,  but 
around  the  roots  of  the  young  German's  Tree 
of  life.  He  saw  her  always  as  she  shone  on 
him  first  in  her  white  stole,  without  a  jewel 
or  a  decoration,  lighting  up  the  drudgery  of 
his  daily  work  with  her  bright  presence,  and 
gladdening  it  by  the  music  of  her  voice. 

He  heard  her  say,  "  Thou  hast  done  well 
and  bravely !"  and  her  words  crowned  him 
better  than  any  wreath  or  laurel.  He  heard 
her  say,  "  If  I  can  set  thee  free,  I  will.  If  not, 
thou  wilt  do  it.  And  that  will  be  better  for 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         139 

thee. '  And  her  words  were  to  him  as  the 
oracle  of  a  priestess  or  the  prophecy  of  a  Teu- 
ton Wala.  She  had  said  it,  and  he  would  do 
it.  How  could  he  fail? 

Before  they  had  gone  far  from  the  city,  they 
overtook  old  Laon  limping  slowly  along,  and 
in  no  amiable  mood. 

Yet  old  Laon  also  had  done  more  to  ward 
off  the  poison  drops  than  Siward  knew,  grate- 
ful as  he  was  to  the  old  man. 

For  always  in  the  midst  of  the  works  of 
destruction,  the  crimes  and  the  avengings,  the 
droppings  of  the  serpent's  venom,  which  make 
so  large  a  portion  of  history,  we  may  be  sure 
He  who  has  never  ceased  to  care  for  man  has 
had  His  silent  ministers  patiently  warding  off 
the  poison.  Little  acts  of  kindness,  little  in- 
terchanges of  human  pity  and  goodwill  have 
never  ceased, — voices  far  too  gentle  and  low 
for  history  to  hear,  but  without  which  the 
world  must  long  since  have  come  to  a  point 
where  history  would  have  had  nothing  to  re- 
cord, and  human  life  would  have  become  a 
mere  brute-like  monotonous  round  of  fighting 
and  feeding,  or  as  a  chaos  of  demons. 

Once  only,  as  they  went  along  .the  road  to 
the  coast,  did  all  the  old  bitterness  come  back 
to  Sivvard's  heart. 

He   was    walking  beside   his   mother   one 


140         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

evening,  carrying  a  heavy  burden,  when  on 
the  slope  of  an  opposite  hill  he  suddenly  per- 
ceived two  Crosses  standing  out  black  against 
the  sunset.  Whether  the  forms  on  them  were 
living  or  dead,  at  that  distance  could  not  be 
seen. 

He  stood  between  his  mother  and  the  terri- 
ble sight,  and,  trusting  she  had  not  seen  it, 
endeavored  to  stand  as  erect  as  he  could  be- 
neath his  burden,  and  to  interest  her  in  other 
thoughts. 

But  glancing  anxiously  at  her,  he  met  her 
eyes,  and  from  the  horror  in  them  he  per- 
ceived that  she  had  seen  but  too  plaihly,  and 
knew  what  the  sight  meant. 

They  made  no  further  attempt  at  speech 
that  evening,  but  walked  behind  each  other 
in  unbroken  silence. 

Lives  like  those  of  Germanicus  and  Agrip- 
pina  make  little  echo.  We  should  have  known 
little  of  their  pure  and  pleasant  life  together 
but  for  the  tragedy  which  borders  and  breaks 
it,  making  a  highway  for  the  tread  of  history, 
as  the  burning  deserts  make  a  highway  for 
the  feet  of  the  Bedouin  into  the  pleasant  pas- 
tures of  the  Holy  Land. 

The  young  Csesar  and  his  wife  were  doubt- 
less as  glad  as  any  of  their  train  to  escape  the 
oppressive  presence  of  Tiberius  and  the  Em- 
press-mother. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         141 

There  must  have  been  refreshment  for  the 
young  conqueror  of  the  North,  even  in  the 
storms  which  his  ships  encountered  on  the 
Ionian  sea.  Once  more  he  had  to  wage  open 
war,  now  with  the  winds  and  waves  of  the 
Adriatic,  as  lately  with  the  wild  Northern 
Seas*  and  the  wilder  tribes  which  dwelt  on 
their  shores.  The  stifling  atmosphere  of  the 
Imperial  court  was  left  behind.  The  grand- 
son of  Octavia  and  the  grand-daughter  of 
Octavius  could  breathe  freely  by  the  coast  of 
that  Actium  where  Octavius  had  defeated 
Antony  before  Livia  was  Empress  or  her  son 
Tiberius  had  the  most  distant  prospect  of  the 
throne. 

Yet  this  journey  was  to  Germanicus  a  vir- 
tual exile,  a  banishment  from  the  work  he 
had  aspired  to  do  for  Rome,  and  the  men  he 
had  trained  to  do  it.  New  enemies,  new 
comrades,  new  difficulties  and  dangers  lay 
before  him.  One  thing  only  remained  un- 
changed. 

The  suspicions  of  Tiberius,  the  "  envy  of 
the  god"  of  the  Romans,  followed  him  unre- 
lentingly everywhere.  His  friend  Silenus 
had  been  purposely  removed  from  the  gov- 
ernment of  Syria,  and  an  unscrupulous,  am- 
bitious man  of  the  great  old  Calpurnian  house, 
Cneius  Piso,  appointed  to  dog  his  footsteps 
and  thwart  his  plans  wherever  he  went. 


142  VICTORY  OF  TUTS   VANQUISHED. 

It  was  by  no  accident  that  an  associate  was 
given  to  the  young  Caesar  who  from  the  first 
undisguisedly  disobeyed  his  orders  and  mis- 
interpreted his  acts,  and  whose  wife  Plancina, 
a  favorite  of  the  Empress-mother,  lost  no  op- 
portunity of  arrogantly  defying  and  insulting 
Agrippina. 

Tiberius  ventured  to  rely  much  on  the 
fidelity  to  duty  and  the  evenness  of  temper 
to  be  expected  from  Germanicus. 

It  was  believed  by  many  that  he  relied  on 
Piso  and  Plancina  for  darker  services  than 
could  be  confessed ;  and  that  in  neither  re- 
liance was  he  disappointed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

T  length  the  storms  of  the  Ionian  Sea 
had  been  mastered,  and  the  ships  of 
Germanicus  were  tranquilly  at  an- 
chor in  the  Piraeus,  with  the  brazen 
statue  of  the  guardian  Athena  flashing  on 
their  sight  from  the  summit  of  the  Acropolis. 
To  Germanicus  the  past  memories  of  the 
place  were  as  sacred  as  to  any  of  its  citizens, 
and  he  chose  to  waive  as  much  as  possible  of 
the  state  of  the  Caesar,  and  to  approach  the 
ancient  free  city  reverently, — not  as,  a  cen- 
tury before,  Sulla  had  entered,  with  a  con- 
quering army,  battering  down  her  Long 
Walls  and  their  towers,  but  as  a  pilgrim  to 
her  shrines,  and  a  disciple  of  her  philosophic 
schools,  attended  by  one  tutor. 

In  that  century  Rome  had  passed  as  much 
under  the  intellectual  rule  of  Athens,  as 
Athens  under  the  Imperial  rule  of  Rome. 
And  along  the  road  from  the  Piraeus  to  the 
city,  between  the  walls  and  towers  which  Sul- 

(143) 


144         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

la  had  reduced  to  ruins,  Caesar  Germanicus 
passed  reverently  to  the  judgment-seat  where 
Demosthenes  had  •  uttered  models  of  oratory 
for  Roman  orators, — to  the  Painted  Porch 
whose  masculine  philosophy  had  power  to 
revive  something  of  the  spirit  of  old  republi- 
can Rome  in  the  degenerate  Romans  of  the 
Empire, — to  the  theatres  once  crowded  with 
audiences  which  could  appreciate  yEschylus, 
— to  the  temples  where  the  Zeus  and  the 
Athena  of  Phidias,  and  of  Olympus,  dwarfed 
the  Capitoline  Jove  to  a  mere  tribal  divinity 
of  yesterday ;  yet  where  beside  the  altars  of 
the  Olympians  incense  was  burned  by  the 
Athenians  to  "  the  goddess  Rome,"  and  to 
Augustus,  .the  brother  of  his  grandmother 
Octavia. 

All  Athens  poured  out  along  the  roads  and 
on  the  quays  to  do  honor  and  give  welcome 
to  the  adopted  grandson  of  the  divine  Augus- 
tus, and  "  to  represent  to  him  the  glories  of 
Athens."  But  the  most  sensitive  Roman 
vanity  could  scarcely  have  been  wounded  by 
the  loftiest  Athenian  glorification  of  the  Acro- 
polis, now  that  the  Acropolis  had  become  a 
pedestal  for  Csesar. 

Old  Laon  was  in  a  tremor  of  suppressed 
enthusiasm  as  they  approached  the  glorious 
shores. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         145 

When  he  caught  sight  of  the  statue  of 
Athena,  he  seized  Siward's  arm  and  said, — 
"  Boy,  that  statue  is  made  of  the  brazen  spoils 
of  Marathon.  No  Persian  could  look  at  that 
for  centuries  without  having  flashed  in  his 
eyes  the  victory  and  freedom  of  Greece." 

"  Athens  is  free  now  ?"  asked  the  boy. 

"  Free  !  yes,  a  freed  slave  !  Free,  as  I  shall 
be  a  freed  man  when  I  have  worked  out  this 
expedition,"  said  the  old  man  bitterly.  "  Suf- 
fered to  be  free.  But  that  old  freedom,  wrung 
from  a  mighty  foe,  was  worth  having,"  he  ad- 
ded ;  "  worth  the  three  hundred  lives  freely 
sacrificed  for  it  in  the  dark  cleft  among  the 
hills.  It  meant, — Herodotus,  and  ^Eschylus, 
and  Phidias,  and  Socrates,  and  Plato,  and 
Demosthenes  ;  the  Academy,  the  Lyceum,  the 
Garden,  the  Porch.  That  was  a  liberty  worth 
conquering.  It  was  no  mere  liberty,"  he  con- 
cluded grimly,  "  to  hunt  boars,  and  build 
huts,  and  roam  as  free  as  wild  beasts  in  the 
forests." 

Siward  flushed  slightly  at  the  implied  con- 
trast. He  had  been  thinking  of  the  spoils  of 
the  legions  of  Varus,  and  of  Herman  the  De- 
liverer, in  the  Teutoberger  Forest,  and  won- 
dering when  trophies  would  be  reared  of 
these,  and  he  felt  abashed.  But  in  a  few  min- 
utes he  took  courage  and  said, — "  The  free- 
dom came  first,  Laon,  and  then  the  wisdom 
and  the  glory  ;  did  it  not  ?" 


146        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  The  cities  worth  keeping  free,  and  the 
men  who  conquered  the  freedom,  and  in 
whose  souls  the  wisdom  sprang,  came  first," 
said  Laon.  "  The  ages  have  scarcely  a  second 
harvest  like  that.  The  old  soil  is  worn  out,  the 
crops  degenerate  and  grow  feebler  year  by 
year.  If  you  have  yet  virgin  soil  in  your 
North,  where  will  you  find  a  Sower  to  sow 
new  seed  ?" 

The  ship  neared  the  quay.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments came  the  shock  of  touching  the  shore, 
and  all  the  turmoil  of  landing  amongst  the 
Athenians,  eager  to  see  and  to  hear  some  new 
thing.  In  the  confusion  the  German  captives, 
having  to  take  their  share  of  the  work,  were 
separated  from  Laon. 

It  was  not  until  some  hours  afterwards  that 
Siward  overtook  the  old  man  limping  along 
the  muddy  road  from  the  Piraeus. 

His  philosophy  was  sorely  tried  by  the  dif- 
ficulties of  the  way. 

"  Those  Romans  have,  after  all,  their  use  in 
the  world,"  he  muttered.  "  I  always  said  so. 
They  made  unexceptionable  roads  and  drains." 

At  that  moment  a  young  Greek  came  up 
to  Laon  and  gave  him  a  cordial  welcome. 
"  Do  you  not  remember  me,"  he  said — "  Cal- 
lias,  the  son  of  Damaris  ?  I  am  here  studying 
for  my  statues." 

"  Statues  are  all  very  well,  my  excellent 
Callias,"  said  Laon,  struggling  out  of  a  mud- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         ^7 

hole  into  which  he  had  plunged  in  the  sur- 
prise of  the  meeting.  "  But  is  it  possible  that 
Pericles  and  Phidias  and  Pluto,  and  all  the 
wise  men  and  artists,  plunged  through  all 
this  filth  ?  That  Socrates,  for  instance,  tran- 
quilly pursued  his  divine  discourses,  uninter- 
rupted and  unmoved  by  being  plunged  at 
every  second  breath  into  these  mud  rivers  ?" 

"  Possibly  Socrates  walked  and  talked  after 
fine  weather,"  said  Callias,  in  a  tone  which 
implied  that  the  difficulties  and  discourses  of 
Socrates  were  not  of  prime  moment  to  him. 
He  would  doubtless  have  echoed  the  senti- 
ment that  "  to  be  the  living  slave  even  of  a 
needy  master  was  better  than  to  be  lord  over 
all  the  dead." 

"  Your  mother  told  me  you  were  in  Syria." 

"  So  I  was.  I  came  to  make  statues  for 
Herod  Antipas,  for  what  they  call  his  Golden 
House,  in  his  new  city  of  Tiberias." 

"  You  scarcely  needed  to  study  after  Phid- 
ias to  meet  the  taste  of  a  Jew !"  said  Laon, 
contemptuously. 

"  I  need  it  to  meet  my  own,"  said  Callias. 
"  Besides,  the  Herods  are  great  builders,  and 
have  people  around  them  who  can  tell  them 
what  they  ought  to  admire.  But  I  should 
scarcely  need  to  copy  Phidias,  if  I  could  have 
such  models  as  I  have  seen  on  the  quay  of  the 
Piraeus  to-day." 


1 48        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  What !  have  the  Olympians  descended 
for  thee  also?"  said  Laon,  smiling. 

"  Scarcely  Olympians.  Happy  Hyperbo- 
reans, perhaps.  One  a  tall,  majestic,  matronlj 
Avoman,  with  a  step  stately  enough,  eyes  soft 
enough,  and  a  brow  grand  and  calm  enough 
for  Juno.  Another  a  child,  who  in  a  year  or 
two  will  be  the  perfection  of  a  Hebe — fair, 
with  color  in  her  cheeks  like  the  tips  of  a 
shell,  and  teeth  like  the  pearly  inside ;  eyes 
blue  like  the  sea,  and  hair  that  made  a  sun- 
shine around  her  face.  Mother  and  child, 
they  seemed, — simply  dressed,  yet  well,  like 
slaves  of  some  great  house." 

Siward  listened  eagerly.  With  his  imper- 
fect knowledge  of  the  Greek  which  they  were 
speaking,  he  half  caught  the  meaning,  when 
Laon  addressed  him, — 

"  Callias  is  speaking  of  your  mother  and 
sister." 

The  young  sculptor  took  a  long  look  at  Si- 
ward. 

"  I  see !  You  must  be  of  the  same  race,"  he 
said.  "  Let  me  model  you  in  a  group.  I  can 
pay  well  for  models,"  he  added  softly  to  Laon, 
apart. 

"  We  are  slaves,"  said  Siward,  proudly.  "  I 
suppose  the  very  reflection  and  image  of  us 
is  not  ours  to  sell !  And  if  it  were  we  would 
not  sell  it." 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  Nay,  for  that  matter,"  said  the  young  ar- 
tist ;  "  we  are  all  slaves ;  we  are  all  bought 
and  sold.  Only  some  have  the  advantage  of 
putting  their  price  into  their  own  purse.  Our 
forefathers  created  statues  to  make  their  old 
city  beautiful,  and  saw  them  live  in  thousands 
of  adoring  eyes.  I  sell  them  to  a  barbarian 
prince,  who  values  them  by  the  cost  of  their 
marble,  and  the  praise  of  his  courtiers,  among 
a  people  who,  if  they  dared,  would  grind 
them  to  powder,  and  make  me  drink  them  in 
water,  as  their  ancestors  did." 

"  But  you  make  the  statues  !  "  said  Siward  ; 
"  and  if  I  were  a  sculptor,  that  is  what  I  would 
like  best.  No  one  can  rob  you  of  that." 

The  sculptor  turned  towards  the  boy  with 
a  penetrating  glance. 

"  True !"  he  said,  in  a  more  serious  tone. 
"A  little  of  that  I  understand.  But  you  have 
been  born  at  the  wrong  time,  if  you  mean  to 
live  by  that  rule." 

"  Our  friend  comes  from  the  North,"  inter- 
posed Laon,  "  where  the  world  is  still  young." 

"  The  family  look  like  it,"  said  Callias. 
"  Such  types  belong  only  to  pristine  days." 

"  This  boy  interests  me,"  he  added  to  Laon 
in  rapid  Greek.  "  Can  it  be  that  the  soul  is 
like  the  body — beautiful,  vigorous,  and  sim- 
ple? Is  there  indeed  a  race  like  this  ?  Then 
the  Olympians  may  look  to  their  thrones.  I 


150        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

would  fain  see  more  of  such  a  family.  It  is 
like  bathing  in  a  pure  mountain  river  to 
breathe  their  presence.  Are  the  mother  and 
sister  the  same?" 

"  As  pure  and  beautiful  within  and  with- 
out," said  Laon. 

"  Then,  for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  bring 
me  to  know  them !  A  bride  from  such  a 
stock  would  be  a  perpetual  fountain  of 
youth.' 

"  You  talk  of  renewing  youth,  boy  !  You 
have  scarce  begun  your  youth." 

"  Do  you  not  know  ?  No  one  is  young 
now."  He  spoke  lightly.  But  a  shade  of 
unfeigned  melancholy  came  over  the  mobile 
countenance,  and  took  the  light  of  the  keen 
dark  eyes.  "  Long  since  the  gods,  and  Youth 
among  them,  have  been  banished  among  the 
shades.  And,  in  revenge,  they  have  taken 
the  sunshine  and  solidity  from  earth,  and 
have  made  mere  shadows  of  us  all." 

"  Wisdom  remains,"  said  Laon,  severely. 

"  Yes,  philosophy  remains,"  replied  the 
young  artist,  bitterly,  "  the  most  shadowy 
shade  of  us  all.  She  wanders,  mumbling  old 
saws,  from  the  Lyceum  to  the  Academy,  from 
the  Porch  to  the  Garden,  only  in  earnest 
when  she  wakes  to  fight  over  some  old  battle, 
or  when  she  whispers  to  the  initiated  her  last 
secret, — that,  not  only  are  there  no  gods,  and 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         151 

no  Patria, — there  is  no  truth,  at  least  none  dis- 
cernible for  man." 

As  they  talked,  slow  as  their  progress  was, 
they  had,  nevertheless,  approached  the  City. 

The  glorious  Acropolis,  itself  one  great 
Temple  with  a  hundred  shrines,  of  which 
Greece  was  the  platform,  and  the  world  the 
outer  court,  rose  above  them. 

They  went  on  through  the  City  ;  through 
the  Agora,  where  the  free  people  of  old  had 
met.  But  now,  among  its  hosts  of  beautiful 
statues,  lounged  listlessly  the  idle  throngs  of 
a  degraded  populace,  pestering  the  new-com- 
ers for  alms  or  traffic. 

Laon  turned  round  in  disgust. 

"  Come  again  to-night,"  he  said  to  Callias, 
"  when  these  chattering  ghosts  of  old  Athens 
are  laid.  Then  we  shall  see  the  real  Athens 
— the  only  Athens  that  will  ever  live  any 
more.  Meet  us  here,  Siward,"  he  added, 
suddenly  ;  "  here  by  the  Altar  of  Pity.  After 
all,"  he  added,  "  it  is  the  only  Altar  to  Pity  in 
the  world.  Siward,  to-night  we  will  come 
back  to  it,  and  you  shall  see  our  Athens. 
Bring  your  mother  and  the  child,  if  you  can. 
I  suspect  if  there  is  another  Altar  to  Pity  in 
the  world,  it  is  in  thy  mother's  heart." 


CHAPTER   XL 

HEN,  that  evening,  old  Laon  led  Si- 
guna  and  the  child  Hilda  to  the  Al- 
tar of  Pity,  by  a  sudden  impulse  she 
knelt  and  embraced  the  stone,  and 
laid  the  soft  cheek  of  the  child  against  it. 

"There  is  no  Altar  to  Pity  in  Rome  !"  she 
said  softly,  as  if  to  herself,  as  she  arose. 

"  But  in  Athens,"  said  the  young  Athenian 
sculptor,  proudly,  "  there  are  no  Crosses  and 
no  gladiatorial  games.  The  two  could  not 
have  the  freedom  of  one  city." 

Siguna  looked  gratefully  into  his  face. 

"  The  young  sculptor  wished  to  see  you," 
said  Laon.  "  His  mother  Damaris  you  know. 
He  himself  is  free ;  lives  often  at  Antioch  ; 
and  may  be  of  service  to  you  in  the  strange 
land,  if  the  Cassar  remains  there,  and  I  must 
return  to  Rome." 

He  wished  to  say  more.  But  Siguna  was 
not  a  woman  to  whom  it  was  easy  to  pay 
compliments.  If  indirect,  she  would  scarcely 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         ^3 

have  perceived  them  ;  if  direct,  she  would 
either  have  not  heeded  or  have  resented  them. 
Laon  was,  moreover,  not  clear  as  to  what  the 
German  theories  might  be  as  to  models. 
More  than  one  custom  which  was  not  ques- 
tioned at  Rome  nor  by  Socrates,  he  had 
found  the  German  boy  regard  with  horror  as 
a  crime.  Having,  therefore,  so  far  accom- 
plished the  desired  introduction,  after  a  few 
minutes  of.  further  conversation  he  suffered 
Siguna  and  the  child  to  go  back  to  the  house 
of  Germanicus,  whilst  he  and  Callias  and  Si- 
ward  pursued  their  way  about  the  City. 

"  Now  you  must  manage  your  own  affairs," 
he  said  aside  to  Callias.  "  Only,  I  should  re- 
commend you  to  say  anything  you  want  a 
German  to  understand  in  plain  language,  and 
to  remember  that  the  Northern  people  have 
peculiar  notions  of  self-respect.  The  best 
way  to  the  mother's  heart,  if  you  really  wish 
the  girl  for  a  bride,  is  to  do  something  for  the 
freedom  of  her  children.  On  that  point  the 
family  are  fanatical." 

Very  different  images  imprinted  them- 
selves on  the  minds  of  the  two  Greeks  and 
the  young  German,  as  they  walked  together 
over  the  same  hills  and  valleys  and  looked  at 
the  same  Acropolis. 

The  colors  of  the  frescoes  were  effaced  in 
the  moonlight,  and  the  cluster  of  glorious 
7* 


154      VICTORY  OF 'THE  VANQUISHED. 

temples,  the  many  crowns  wherewith  the 
city  had  been  crowned  in  the  days  of  her 
youth,  rose  white  as  alabaster  against  the 
depths  of  the  clear  sky. 

Siward  looked  at  the  fair  columns  and  per- 
fect outlines,  and  up  to  the  bronze  statue  of 
the  Virgin  goddess,  shining  in  the  moon- 
beams, her  spear  and  shield  outstretched  in 
ceaseless  guardianship  over  the  sleeping  city. 

He  looked,  and  thought  of  Cloelia  the  Ves- 
tal in  the  silent  Temple  near  the  Roman  Fo- 
rum, feeding  the  sacred  fire,  and  keeping,  he 
thought,  just  such  a  guard  for  Rome. 

He  thought  of  Clcelia  the  Vestal,  and  of 
the  Altar  to  Pity,  and  of  the  streets  and  hill- 
sides unpolluted  by  the  gladiatorial  Games  or 
by  the  Cross. 

Callias  thought  of  what  he  saw.  The  whole 
beautiful  present  scene  flashed  back  from  his 
mind  as  from  a  silver  mirror. 

The  strip  of  level  land  edged  by  the  shin- 
ing sea,  broken  by  the  hills  made  to  be  the 
pedestals  they  were,  bounded  by  the  dim 
forms  of  the  mountains,  with  groves  of  flow- 
ering shrubs,  and  silver-gray  olives,  and 
stately  planes, .  and  the  silver  threads  of 
streams  enriching  it  (after  the  recent  rains)  as 
with  delicate  embroidery. 

And  at  their  feet,  in  the  Agora,  on  the  hill- 
sides, on  the  hill-tops,  Athens,  in  his  eyes 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         155 

divinely  peopled  with  the  forms  of  gods  and 
god-like  men,  under  the  silent  colonnades,  in 
the  clear  spaces  under  the  clear  heavens,  en- 
shrined in  Divine  Dwellings  in  every  grove 
and  on  every  slope  ;  forms  of  imperishable, 
immutable  beauty  ;  a  whole  Olympus,  a  whole 
Iliad  and  Odyssey  in  marble. 

Laon  saw  the  Past,  with  its  great  deeds, 
and  heard  its  great  voices.  The  Beauty  to 
him  was  merely  a  vesture  for  the  Life. 

The  vesture  remained.  The  life  had  passed 
away.  But  in  the  silence  of  the  sleeping  city 
all  came  back  to  him. 

He  saw  the  Persians  beaten  back  from  the 
shores ;  he  saw  the  Three  Hundred — dead, 
yet  deliverers — vanquished,  yet  victors — in 
that  dark  pass  of  Thermopylae. 

He  saw  in  the  brazen  Athena  the  work  of 
Phidias  and  the  spoils  of  Marathon. 

From  the  Painted  Porch  in  the  Agora,  from 
the  Garden  in  the  City,  from  the  trees  by  the 
dry  bed  of  the  Ilissus,  or  from  the  greener 
groves  of  the  Academy,  he  heard  great 
voices, — even  then  voices  of  old,  even  then, 
he  felt,  to  almost  all  men  around  him,  faint 
murmurs  from  the  world  of  shadows ; — the 
voice  of  Socrates  over  the  poison-cup,  the 
voices  of  Plato,  of  Aristotle,  of  ^Eschylus,  of 
Sophocles,  and  of  Demosthenes. 

The  old  man  sat  in  a  silence  longer  than 


156        VICTORY  OF  TUE   VANQUISHED. 

usual  with  him.  He  felt  his  companions 
scarcely  in  harmony  with  him,  and  it  was  one 
of  those  moments  when  a  discord  jarring  on 
the  music  within  would  have  been  not  merely 
an  annoyance,  but  a  pain.  He  wished  for  the 
child  Clcelia  Diodora,  his  disciple,  his  god- 
given.  She  would  have  understood.  But 
what  was  the  use  of  saying  what  he  felt  about 
Greece  to  a  sceptical  young  sculptor  or  to  a 
Northern  barbarian  ? 

The  two  young  men  roamed  about  the  hills 
together,  and  soon  became  on  very  good 
terms  with  each  other ;  but  the  old  man  plead- 
ed his  lameness,  and  sat  on  the  rock-platform 
whence  had  resounded  the  voice  of  Demos- 
thenes, meditating  alone. 

When  they  came  back  they  found  him  still 
seated,  leaning  on  his  staff,  but  with  his  face 
to  the  City,  instead  of  its  being,  as  when  they 
left  him,  towards  the  Acropolis. 

"  The  true  Sanctuary  of  Athens  is  not 
there,"  he  said,  rising  and  pointing  up  to  the 
Acropolis. 

"  It  is  below,  in  the  prison  where  Socrates 
took  the  poison-cup  calmly  and  cheerfully  as 
a  wine-cup  at  a  banquet,  where  the  officer  of 
the  prison  wept  for  him,  deeming  him  the 
most  noble,  meek,  and  excellent  man  that 
ever  entered  into  that  place  ;  but  where  he 
wept  not  for  himself,  for  he  said,  '  When  I 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         157 

have  drunk  the  poison  I  shall  no  longer  re- 
main with  you,  but  shall  depart  to  some  hap- 
py state  of  the  blessed  ;'  conjuring  those  who 
loved  him  not  to  grieve  when  he  died,  as  if 
it  was  indeed  he  who  suffered  some  dreadful 
thing,  or  to  say  of  his  interment,  It  is  Socra- 
tes who  is  carried  out  and  buried.  '  Of  all  his 
time,  the  best,  and  wisest,  and  most  just,'  the 
best  men  of  his  time  said,  yet  refusing  to  be 
called  wise,  but  only  one  who  loved  Wisdom. 
That  vanquished  man  was  the  true  victor 
here.  Why  should  we  grieve  for  Athens,"  he 
continued.  "  In  her  youth  she  rejected  Soc- 
rates, and  now  in  her  old  age  she  has  built  a 
temple  to  the  goddess  Rome,  and  Cassar  Au- 
gustus, beside  her  Parthenon !" 

"  Even  Socrates  refused  to  be  called  wise," 
said  Callias.  "  Doubtless  he  knew  how  im- 
possible it  is  to  know." 

"  To  know  what  ?"  said  old  Laon,  reviving 
and  enkindling  at  the  prospect  of  a  debate. 
"  To  know  of  what  the  world  is  made — wheth- 
er of  fire,  or  of  water,  or  of  nothing.  What 
matters  it  not  to  know  ?  But  that  it  is  possi- 
ble to  know  what  it  does  matter  to  know ; 
what  are  beauty,  and  justice,  and  truth — what 
we  are.  This  Socrates  lived  to  make  clear  to 
all  men.  This  he  died  because  men  would 
not  know.  This  Athens  has  perished  because 
she  would  not  know.  And  this,  young  men, 


158        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

it  matters  infinitely  that  you   and  I  should 
know." 

"Can  we  know?"  said  Callias.  "Did  he 
know  ?  Did  he  not  after  all  embark  as  on  a 
raft,  risking  himself  on  an  unknown  sea?  Has 
the  '  surer  conveyance  or  the  divine  reason' 
he  spoke  of  yet  come  ?" 

Laon  did  not  reply. 

As  they  spoke  they  had  been  winding  slow 
ly  round  Mars  Hill  the  Areopagus,  Laon  lead- 
ing.    At  that   moment  they  came  out  on  a 
wide  deep  ravine  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
hill. 

"  That  is  right !"  murmured  the  old  man  at 
last.  "  I  thought  I  remembered.  Boy,"  he 
said,  turning  to  Siward,  "  you  asked  me  once 
in  what  temple  I  worshiped.  Come  and  see." 

Further  and  further  they  penetrated  into 
the  shadows  of  the  ravine,  until  at  the  end  of 
the  chasm,  in  a  recess  where  not  a  ray  of  the 
moon,  now  sinking,  reached,  they  came  to  a 
natural-  cave  in  the  rock,  faced  with  a  few 
simple  columns,  scarcely  perceptible  in  the 
gloom. 

"  This  is  the  shrine  of  the  Eumenides,"  the 
old  man  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Here  at  least 
we  must  call  them  by  their  least-dreaded 
name !  Here  came  of  old  from  the  Acropolis 
the  three  avenging  goddesses." 

"  How  are  these  divine  beings  propitiated  ?" 


VICTOR Y  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

asked  Siward,  after  a  long  silence,  his  voice 
also  insensibly  subdued  to  the  awed  stillness 
of  the  place. 

"  They  are  never  propitiated  !"  Laon  re- 
plied. "  What  they  determine  is  just,  and 
cannot  be  changed.  Ceaselessly  their  noise- 
less footsteps  pursue  the  murderer,  the  per- 
jurer, those  who  disobey  parents,  who  scorn 
the  suppliant  or  the  aged,  or  betray  the 
guest." 

"  Their  steps  are  slow,"  said  Siward,  think- 
ing of  the  betrayed  wife  of  Herman,  and  of 
the  murdered  babes  of  the  house  of  Cloelius. 

"  They  can  afford  to  be  slow,"  said  Laon. 
"  They  are  older  than  all  the  gods." 

"  What  are  their  forms  ?" 

"  There  are  two  accounts  of  their  appear- 
ance," said  Laon.  "  Necessarily.  To  those 
they  pursue  they  seem  clothed  in  black,  their 
hair  twined  with  serpents,  their  eyes  dripping 
blood.  They  are  called  the  Avengers,  the 
Furies.  To  the  just,  and  to  the  injured  whom 
they  avenge,  they  are  beautiful,  grave,  and 
majestic  virgins,  clad  and  girt  like  huntresses, 
as  those  who  have  work  to  do,  and  cannot 
linger  about  it — the  Eumenides.  For  they 
are  swift  enough  when  the  time  comes.  And 
by  their  side  is  justice,  the  Divine  ?" 
.  "  And  are  sacrifices  offered  to  them  ?"  asked 
Siward. 


160        VICTOR Y  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  Some  sacrifice  black  sheep  to  them,"  Laon 
replied,  "  as  to  the  gods  of  the  lower  world. 
Not,  I  think,  to  much  avail.  But  I  know 
hands  from  which  I  think  they  would  accept 
the  white  turtle-dove,  and  the  golden  narcis- 
sus, also  sacred  to  them,  gladly." 

Slowly  and  in  silence  they  retraced  their 
steps  through  the  solemn  ravine,  leaving  that 
secret  shrine  of  Conscience  buried  deep  in 
the  rocky  heart  of  Athens,  underneath  the 
glorious  temples  which  shone  on  her  sunny 
heights. 

And  the  facts  most  deeply  stamped  on  Si- 
ward's  mind,  as  they  quitted  Athens,  were, 
that  in  the  meeting-place  of  her  people  there 
stood  an  Altar  to  Pity,  and  deep  in  the  bosom 
of  her  hills  a  Temple  to  Justice. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


pure 


WAY  from  Attica  sailed  the  ships  of 
Germanicus,  over  the  sunny  Grecian 
seas.    Their  last  glimpse  of  the  beau- 
tiful  city   was    by   sunset  —  all   her 
and   stately   marbles    glowing-    with  a 


tender  rose,  deepening  into  crimson  on  her 
weather-beaten  crags,  and  contrasted  with 
the  imperial  purple  which  draped  the  further 
hills. 

To  the  eye  still  the  Athens  of  the  glorious 
old  days ;  perhaps  even  to  the  eyes  of  Caesar 
Germanicus,  as  her  multitudes  poured  out  on 
his  departure  to  lavish  on  him  the  parting 
honors,  and  speed  his  ships  on  their  eastward 
way. 

His  sojourn  had  been  one  festival.  Perhaps 
that  flush  of  welcome  seemed  to  all  for  the 
moment  as  the  flush  of  rekindling  life.  The 
responsive  enthusiasm  which  his  genuine  ad- 
miration for  their  past  rang  out  of  the  Athe- 
nians, may  have  hidden  from  him  the  hollow- 

(161) 


1 62  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

ness  of  the  present.  It  is  not  from  the  high 
places  of  the  world  that  the  widest  or  the  tru- 
est prospects  are  seen. 

From  Athens  he  sailed  to  the  coasts  of 
Troy.  The  grandson  of  Augustus  had  other 
memories  besides  those  of  Homer  to  make 
those  shores  sacred  to  him. 

The  brief  blossoming-time  of  Latin  poetry 
had  scarcely  passed.  Its  fragrance  lingered 
on  the  air.  Virgil  had  died  not  forty  years 
before ;  Horace  scarcely  thirty.  Their  gar- 
dens and  farms  must  still  have  retained  the 
traces  of  their  planting.  Ovid  was  dying  of 
sleeplessness  and  melancholy,  an  exile  by  the 
Euxine  Sea,  by  the  mouth  of  the  river  Dan- 
ube, on  the  borders  of  the  Empire. 

The  earnest  character  of  Germanicus — him- 
self, it  was  said,  not  without  the  gifts  of  a  po- 
et and  an  orator — must  have  given  him  more 
sympathy  with  Virgil,  the  earnest  and  relig- 
ious poet  of  the  Imperial  house,  than  with 
Horace,  the  fanciful  singer  of  the  light  and 
luxurious  society  of  the  Empire.  His  own 
life  had  more  of  the  grave  epic  than  of  the 
light  and  graceful  lyric  in  it. 

Around  his  pure  and  simple  life,  on  every 
side  the  laxity  of  a  state  slowly  dissolving 
through  its  own  vices ;  around  his  own  ear- 
nest and  loyal  character,  the  entangling  and 
the  cramping  suspicions  of  a  jealous  court ; 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         ^3 

in  no  sense  and  for  no  period  were  the  brief 
years  allotted  him  a  voyage  over  a  sunny  sea. 

Behind  him  on  this  very  voyage,  his  ene- 
my, the  friend  of  Tiberius,  followed  close — 
the  aristocratic  Piso ;  as  a  member  of  the  old 
Calpurnian  House,  despising  the  grandson  of 
the  plebeian  Octavius;  as  the  confidential 
emissary  of  Tiberius,  losing  no  opportunity 
of  thwarting  the  nephew  whose  popularity 
the  Emperor  dreaded  ;  as  a  practical  and  pro- 
saic Roman,  priding  himself  on  his  scorn  for 
the  young  Csesar's  literary  tastes. 

Scarcely  had  Germanicus  left  Athens  as  a 
reverent  pilgrim  when  Piso  entered  it,  with 
all  the  insolent  pomp  of  the  dominant  race, 
openly  ridiculing  the  courtesy  of  his  chief, 
and  calling  the  Athenians  "  an  impure  conflux, 
the  offscouring  of  various  nations,"  enemies 
of  Sulla  and  of  Augustus. 

In  which  sentence,  when  he  heard  it,  old 
Laon  grimly  acquiesced. 

The  Roman  claims  of  Trojan  descent  were 
by  no  means  palatable  to  the  old  man,  and  he 
grumbled  at  the  expedition  of  Germanicus 
to  the  plains  of  Troy.  The  Latin  literature 
he  considered  an  upstart  reproduction  of  the 
Greek.  Against  the  ^neid  he  cherished  an 
undisguised  prejudice,  half  literary  half  polit- 
ical. 

"  The  whole  thing,"  he  said  to  Siward  and 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

to  Callias,  who  accompanied  them,  "  is  noth- 
ing better  than  an  attempt  to  patch  up  the 
Imperial  pedigree  ;  an  endeavor  to  make  a 
plebeian  house  into  a  patrician  by  giving  it 
ancestors  in  the  clouds.  The  gods  exist  in  it 
for  nothing  but  to  be  the  forefathers  of  Cae- 
sar ;  Providence  exists  but  to  ensure  the  su- 
premacy of  Caesar.  The  whole  of  our  glori- 
ous old  Olympus  is  cut  up  into  household 
images  to  carry  in  procession  at  the  Imperial 
funerals." 

Indeed,  much  as  he  appreciated  the  courage 
and  courtesy  of  Germanicus,  Laon  had  some-' 
thing  of  an  aristocratic  scorn  for  the  new  Ro- 
man attempts  at  literature. 

"  Caesar  Germanicus  would  have  been  bet- 
ter employed  subduing  the  Germans,  and 
making  canals  in  Batavia,  like  his  father,  than 
hunting  out  antiquities  at  Ilium.  No  doubt 
he  would  have  liked  it  better ;  it  is  not  his 
fault  that  he  is  here.  But  the  true  type  of 
the  Roman  is  Cneius  Piso.  The  Emperor 
feels  it,  and  we  Greeks  feel  it.  It  is  more 
tolerable  for  these  people  to  profess  to  scorn 
us,  than  to  pretend  to  understand  us." 

"./Eneas  ! "  he  grumbled,  as  he  was  toiling 
over  the  plains  of  Troy  ;  "  who  ever  heard  of 
JEneas  ?  If  he  were  a  true  Trojan  he  ought 
to  have  died  with  his  family  at  Troy,  instead 
of  wandering  over  the  world  breaking  foolish 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         ^5 

women's  hearts  ;  himself,  like  a  foolish  wo- 
man, listening  to  every  fortune-teller  he  came 
across." 

Callias  ventured  to  suggest  the  beauty  of 
some  of  Virgil's  descriptions  of  nature. 

"  Babbling,"  said  the  old  man — "  Babyish 
babbling,  as  in  a  doting  old  age,  of  the  green 
fields  and  flowers  of  childhood  !  What  do 
the  old  patricians  or  the  new  rich  men  of 
Rome  care  for  green  fields  or  groves,  except 
as  places  to  cool  wine  and  eat  peacocks  and 
sucking-pigs  in,  purchased  at  the  price  of 
plundered  provinces?  Nothing  irritates  one," 
he  concluded,  "  like  this  simulated  simplicity, 
this  extra-fine  rusticity,  except  this  turning 
of  poetry  and  religion  into  a  factory  of  ficti- 
tious pedigrees." 

The  old  man  did  not  recover  until  they 
sailed  out  of  sight  of  the  funeral  mounds  of 
Troy  and  the  heights  of  Ida.  Then  he  soft- 
ened a  little  towards  the  Latin  poets,  and  con- 
ceded that  Virgil  had  the  only  religion,  the 
only  poetry,  a  Roman  was  capable  of — the 
worship  of  the  goddess  Rome ;  but  that,  blind- 
ed by  the  degradation  of  his  time,  he  had  mis- 
taken Imperialism  for  patriotism. 

"  And  who-  are  we,  the  Greeks  of  this  age, 
that  I  should  scorn  any  ?"  he  concluded  sadly. 
"  The  beauty  of  our  old  days  was  the  beauty 
of  athletes,  trained  to  the  race  and  the  battle- 


1 66        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

field  —  the  beauty  of  strength.  The  beauty 
of  these  days  is  the  beauty  of  the  barber  and 
the  perfumer.  Of  old  the  thought  expressed 
the  words,  and  no  man  talked  of  style  ;  now 
the  style  but  hides  the  crumbling  dust  of 
thought." 

At  Lesbos,  Agrippina  gave  birth  to  her  last 
child — the  last  joyful  family  event  in  the  brief 
life  of  Germanicus.  Everywhere  the  father 
and  mother  and  the  children  went  together, 
making  a  home  for  each  other  on  any  shore 
or  on  any  sea.  They  had  rejoiced  together 
over  the  birth  of  nine  children,  and  mourned 
together  over  the  death  of  three. 

At  Colophon  they  landed  on  the  Asiatic 
shore.  By  the  banks  of  its  cool  stream,  and 
under  the  fragrant  shadows  of  its  pine-cov- 
ered mountain,  Germanicus  consulted  the 
oracle  of  the  Clarian  Apollo,  where  deep  in  a 
cave  on  the  hill-side  a  fountain  bubbled  up 
from  its  rocky  source.  The  priest  drank  of 
the  sacred  waters,  and  gave  forth  the  oracu- 
lar answer  in  verse. 

Dark  rumors  of  what  the  significance  of 
this  oracular  answer  was  were  murmured 
among  the  household  of  Germanicus.  Siward 
was  much  cast  down.  The  German  villages 
which  Germanicus  had  burned,  and  the  hosts 
he  had  slain  in  fair  fight,  were  merely  in  the 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         \fy 

captive's  eyes  the  necessary  ravages  of  war. 
If  ever  he  reached  the  goal  of  his  ambition, 
and  wielded  hammer  and  sword  under  Her- 
man, these  wrongs  he  hoped  to  aid  in  aveng- 
ing. And,  meantime,  the  courtesy  of  the 
young  Caesar  towards  those  enemies  with 
whom  he  came  personally  into  contact,  and 
his  serene  and  generous  temper,  had  wrought 
its  charm  on  the  captives,  and  attached  them 
to  him.  Siward  felt  him  to  be  an  enemy  it 
would  be  an  honor  to  fight,  and  a  master  it 
was  no  degradation  to  serve. 

"  Are  there  indeed  Walas — prophetic  men 
and  women — among  the  Greeks  ?"  Siward 
said  to  Laon,  as  they  re-embarked  at  Colo- 
phon ;  "  and  can  these  forebodings  be  true  ?" 

"  It  needs  no  special  inspiration  to  forebode 
mischief  to  the  man  Tiberius  envies."  was 
Laon's  oracular  reply — "a  man  whose  foot- 
steps are  dogged  by  Cneius  Piso  and  the  in- 
solent Plancina." 

At  Rhodes  it  was  given  to  Germanicus 
to  do  a  deed  worthy  of  Christian  chivalry. 
He  well  knew  with  what  purpose  Piso  was 
sent,  and  how  malignantly  he  and  his  wife 
were  fulfilling  it :  yet,  when  at  Rhodes  a  sud- 
den tempest  drove  the  ship  of  Piso  on  the 
rocks,  and  a  little  languor  or  delay  in  sending 
help  might  have  suffered  his  enemy  to  perish, 
the  victim  of  the  winds  or  of  Eumenides,  he 


1 68        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

sent  aid  to  him  speedy  and  effective,  as  to  his 
dearest  friend,  and  saved  him  from  destruc- 
tion. Such  triumphs  are  not  assigned  to 
many.  To  Germanicus,  the  act  was  simple  and 
inevitable,  as  part  of  his  every-day  life  of  duty. 

The  rescued  enemy  went  on  his  way — not 
softened — and  therefore  necessarily  hardened 
to  a  baser  bitterness — to  thwart  and  malign 
his  deliverer  by  every  means  in  his  power ; 
whilst  Germanicus  went  quietly  on  his  way 
to  fulfill  his  task  for  Rome.  Well  knowing 
the  intrigues  of  Piso  against  himself,  he  left 
him  to  carry  them  out  as  he  might ;  whilst 
he  marched  his  troops  into  Armenia,  reduced 
Cappadocia  to  the  condition  of  a  province, 
and,  like  a  general  of  the  Republic  in  her 
noblest  days,  true  to  the  Roman  standard  of 
patriotism  and  duty,  himself  uncrowned  and 
a  loyal  citizen,  placed  the  royal  crown  of  Ar- 
menia on  the  head  of  another — Artaxes,  the 
chief  recognized  by  Rome. 

The  world  was  not  without  its  foreshadow- 
ings,  as  it  has  not  been  without  its  reflected 
lights,  of  those  silent  thirty  years  of  subjec- 
tion to  Duty,  of  "  patient  continuance  in  well- 
doing," then  being  lived  at  Nazareth.  At 
Nazareth,  so  near  Antioch — in  the  very  prov- 
ince where  the  young  Caesar  was  bearing  his 
burden  of  stately  rule — the  true  King  was 
bearing  His  burden  of  loving  service. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         i$g 

Germanicus  knew  not  of  Him. 

But  we,  who  believe  and  are  sure  that  He 
did  not  begin  to  live  at  Bethlehem,  nor  begin 
to  work  for  men  in  Galilee,  any  more  than 
He  ceased  to  live  on  Calvary,  know  that  His 
care  for  men  does  not  begin  when  men  begin 
to  know  it. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HE  year  fatal  to  Cassar  Germanicus 
had  opened.  The  restlessness  of 
that  unhappy  age  was  on  him.  Per- 
haps, also,  something  of  the  restless- 
ness of  disease — the  insatiable  longing  which 
sometimes  besets  those  whose  days  are  to  be 
few  to  make  them  full,  to  live  long  in  the  little 
while.  Early  in  the  year  he  left  Syria  to  make 
a  progress  through  Egypt. 

By  doing  this  he  was,  perhaps  unconscious- 
ly, breaking  a  statute  of  Augustus.  Egypt,  the 
granary  of  Rome,  from  which  every  spring  the 
Roman  citizens  drew  their  supplies  of  food, 
was  not  to  be  trodden  by  Roman  feet  without 
permission  from  the  Emperor. 

Every  summer,  in  the  harbor  of  Alexandria, 
it  was  possible  some  daring  rebel  hand  might 
seal  and  dry  up  the  fountain  which  fed  the  life 
of  Rome.  Anchored  by  the  white  quays  of 
the  great  mart  of  the  world,  lay  the  fleet  of 
Alexandrian  corn-ships.  Stored  in  their 
(170) 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         iji 

holds  lay  the  golden  fruit  of  Egypt  and  the 
Egyptian  river.  Before  them  stretched  the 
Mediterranean,  with  its  sudden  storms.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  sea,  on  the  nearest  points 
of  the  Italian  shore,  watchmen  were  stationed 
to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  life-bringing 
sails — full-set  to  distinguish  them  from  others, 
even  when  close  to  the  harbor — and  to  des- 
patch the  glad  tidings  by  beacons  and  flying 
posts  to  the  anxious  City.  The  departure  of 
that  fleet  was  a  sacred  event.  It  arrival  was 
a  national  festival. 

For  already  the  mistress  of  the  world,  look- 
ing down  over  a  waste  Campagna,  and  on 
scattered  villas,  and  on  farms  tilled  by  slaves, 
from  which  the  peasant-proprietors  had  long 
since  been  absorbed,  depended  for  her  exis- 
tence on  the  work  of  other  men  and  the  har- 
vests of  other  soils. 

There  was  a  reverse  to  the  medal  of  the 
"goddess  Rome"  enthroned  with  her  civic 
crown  beside  Augustus.  It  was  the  mendicant 
Rome  kneeling  to  receive  her  dole  of  daily 
bread  at  the  hands  of  the  Emperor,  whilst  the 
Emperor  anxiously  watched  the  winds  on 
which  his  granaries  depended. 

Such  a  treasure-house  needed  to  be  well 
guarded,  and  Germanicus  received  a  sharp 
remonstrance  from  Tiberius  for  entering  it 
without  special  sanction. 


!72        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

He  had  probably  regarded  it  rather  as  the 
threshold  of  another  treasure-house,  the  key 
of  the  ancient  granaries  from  which  Greek 
and  Jew  alike  had  tasted  "  the  wisdom  of  the 
Egyptians." 

To  him,  as  to  us,  a  land  of  remains  and 
ruins,  a  mummy  swathed  in  records  of  its 
own  past  glory ;  the  intervening  eighteen 
centuries  between  us  and  old  Rome  being 
but  one  stage  in  that  far-reaching  past.  To 
him,  as  to  us,  a  land  strangely  symbolized  by 
its  river  flowing  so  invariably  from  unexplored 
sources ;  its  sphinx,  seeming  to  hide  beneath 
her  mute  lips  the  answer  to  riddle  never  solv-  * 
ved ;  its  pyramids,  burying  (among  whatever 
other  secrets)  under  a  mountain  of  stone  the 
lost  history  of  a  forgotten  life. 

Commercially  and  intellectually,  indeed, 
Egypt  had  again  begun  to  stir  with  reviv- 
ed activity ;  as  the  channel  of  the  trade  with 
the  East,  the  vast  granary  of  the  West,  and 
the  great  paper  and  glass  factory  of  the  em- 
pire. The  furthest  extremes  of  the  empire 
were  continually  brought  before  the  eyes  of 
the  travellers  as  they  journeyed  through  the 
Nile  valley.  On  the  river  they  were  con- 
stantly passing  boats  and  barges  filled  with 
paper  and  glass  of  native  manufacture  and 
grain  of  native  growth.  Along  the  banks, 
pencilled  against  the  glowing  sky,  moved 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         ^3 

slow  droves  of  camels  and  mules,  laden  with 
spices,  perfumes,  dyes,  and  gems,  from  the 
farthest  south  and  east,  and  guarded  with 
German  horsemen  brought  from  the  Northern 
forests. 

In  the  schools  of  Alexandria,  with  their  in- 
genious compounds  of  theosophies  ancP  philo- 
sophies, Eastern  and  Western,  Hebrew  and 
Greek,  Callias  found  much  to  admire,  but  old 
Laon  was  far  from  content  with  them. 

"  Mere  shreds  and  patchwork,"  he  said — 
"  patched  together,  not  interwoven ;  mere 
debris — crumbled  together,  not  fused.  To 
make  a  fusion,  you  must  have  a  furnace  glow- 
ing with  living  fire  ;  and  this  is  an  age,  not  of 
fire,  but  of  the  ashes  of  old  fires.  Mere  dust 
and  ashes  of  thought,  from  Greece,  Persia, 
India,  Syria.  Not  fused  together,"  he  con- 
cluded ;  "  crumbled  together,  and  all  dust." 

More  especially,  however,  his  indignation 
was  excited  by  Philo  and  the  philosophic 
Jews  of  Alexandria. 

"  Of  all  false  pretences  in  the  world,"  he 
said,  "  the  worst  is  a  philosophizing  Jew.  It 
is  even  worse  than  an  aesthetical  Roman.  If 
the  Jews  have  anything  fine  about  them,  it  is 
their  intense  unconquerable  national  life,  their 
uncompromising  fidelity  to  their  lawgiver, 
and  to  their  One  Imperial  Divinity.  Give 
me  the  narrowest  and  most  exclusive  Phari- 


174        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

see  that  ever  glared  at  us  Gentiles  under  his 
phylacteries,  rather  thanthe  smoothest  Hellen- 
among  them." 

"  You  would  prefer  the  Egyptian  Therapeu- 
tasa,  or  the  Essenes  by  the  Dead  Sea,"  Callias 
said,  "  who,  regarding  all  matter  as  evil  and 
the  bocty  as  a  prison,  live  in  seclusion  from  all 
men,  in  adoration  of  God,  until  death  shall 
absorb  them  into  His  essence." 

"  They  are  not  essentially  Jews  at  all,"  Laon 
replied.  "  Mystics  are  of  no  age  or  race. 
They  are  a  Vestal  priesthood,  guarding  the 
deathless  fire  for  all  humanity — an  echo  of  the 
sense  of  exile  and  home  sickness  which  besets 
the  highest  natures  everywhere." 

Yet  vigorous  as  might  be  the  life  of  the 
present  in  Egypt,  it  was  evident  that  the  life 
of  the  past  had  been  mightier.  Even  then 
the  cities  of  the  dead,  the  "  durable  dwelling- 
places,"  dwarfed  the  cities  of  the  living.  Even 
then,  on  the  heart  of  the  German  captive,  the 
land  of  the  mysterious  River  left  two  impres- 
sions, which  effaced  all  the  rest :  that  Death  is 
longer  than  life,  and  Nature  stronger  than 
man. 

The  Temple  of  Apis  was  still  standing,  and 
had  its  priesthood — a  priesthood  which  count- 
ed its  duration  by  millenniums.  The  stately 
Black  Bull,  with  the  distinctive  white  marks 
on  brow  and  back,  was  marching  about  his 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         ^5 

sacred  courts,  adored  and  giving  oracles, 
while  his  huge  sarcophagus  was  awaiting 
him  in  the  solemn  vaults  of  the  rock  temple 
underground. 

Again,  with  a  restless  foreboding,  Caesar 
Germanicus  consulted  the  oracle  in  the  Apis 
Temple ;  and  again  dark  rumors  circulated 
among  his  followers  as  to  what  the  enigmati- 
cal answer  threatened — the  shadows,  doubt- 
less, of  that  love  which  cannot  exist  among 
mortal  creatures  without  fear.  Everywhere 
he  won  the  confidence  of  the  people  by  a  con- 
descension and  courtesy  which  seem  to  have 
been  as  inseparable  from  him  as  his  athletic 
beauty  and  his  temperate,  pure  life.  It  was 
natural  in  him  to  wear  the  Gaulish  bearskin 
in  Gaul,  and  the  Grecian  sandals  in  Grecian 
lands.  Popularity  followed  him  ;  he  did  not 
seem  to  seek  it.  He  bore  about  him  the  inde- 
finable charm  which  often  surrounds  those 
who  thread  this  earth  lightly,  as  those  who 
have  not  to  build  on  it,  but  to  pass  through  it, 
and  go  early  to  dwell  elsewhere.  Not  being 
occupied  with  far-reaching  schemes  of  person- 
al ambition,  he  had  leisure  to  throw  himself 
altogether  into  the  life  of  the  moment,  and  of 
the  men  around  him  ;  leisure  to  dwell  in  the 
past — to  be  kind  and  thoughtful  to  all  near 
him ;  space  in  his  mind  for  a  wide  lateral 
horizon,  and  wide  distances  behind  him — per- 


176        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

haps,  unconsciously,  because  the  horizon  be- 
fore him  was  so  near. 

He  visited  the  mighty  remains  of  Thebes. 
One  of  the  oldest  priests  interpreted  to  him 
the  hieroglyphics  on  its  huge  obelisks,  telling 
him  of  the  armies  and  conquests  and  costly 
tributes  of  empires  that  had  preceded  and 
equalled  Rome,  and  had  passed  away  for 
ever.  He  saw  the  Pyramids,  "  raised  like 
mountains  amid  almost  impassable  heaps  of 
sand."  He  heard  the  music  "  struck  by  the 
solar  rays  "  from  the  stone  statue  of  Memnon. 

For  the  first  time,  in  the  Temple  of  Apis, 
Siward  came  in  contact  with  an  organized 
priesthood.  In  Rome  he  had  seen  priests,  but 
they  were  ministers  of  state,  or  diviners  of 
the  destinies  of  Rome.  At  Delphi  and  at 
Claros  he  had  heard  of  a  priest  and  a  priest- 
ess ;  but  each  was  a  mere  isolated  organ  of 
divine  utterances — a  solitary  gateway  into  the 
unknown  world. 

In  Egypt  still  existed  a  priestly  caste,  with 
rites  reaching  back  to  unknown  ages.  The 
gods  were  not  deified  men  or  humanized  di- 
vinities, but  mystic  animals  :  the  monotonous, 
mysterious,  changeless,  unprogressive,  animal 
nature,  adored  in  itself  as  a  type  of  the  mono- 
tonous changes  and  the  changeless  revolutions 
of  the  visible  world,  especially  of  the  Egyptian 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         177 

world  of  the  Sun,  the  River,  and  the  Desert, 
with  its  infinite  expanses  of  starry  sky :  Nature 
and  Death  surrounding,  outlasting,  hemming 
in  the  little  life  of  man. 

"  Did  they  indeed  hem  in  this  little  life  ?  Or 
was  this  little  life  but  to  expand  through  them 
into  something  wider  and  more  enduring — to 
blend  with  this  infinite  Nature — to  endure 
through  this  unconquerable  Death  ?  Was  this 
life  of  ours  indeed  but  as  the  green  strip  be- 
tween two  deserts  ?  " 

Questions  of  this  kind  came  into  Siward's 
mind  as  he  stood  with  Laon  among  the  tombs 
by  the  Nile,  little  able  as  he  was  to  frame  the 
questions  with  his  lips. 

"What  did  they  mean  by  all  this  work?" 
he  asked,  as  they  looked  round  on  the  elabor- 
ate paintings  and  inscriptions  on  the  walls  of 
one  of  the  sepulchral  chambers.  "  Is  it  for  the 
dead  or  for  the  living  ?  " 

"  The  living  made  this  for  themselves  when 
they  should  be  dead,"  said  Laon.  "  Their 
houses  they  regarded  as  only  sojourning 
places.  This  was  to  be  their  abode.  On  this 
they  lavished  all  their  art.  Life,  they  felt,  is 
transitory.  Death  endures." 

"  Death  endures,"  murmured  Siward.  "  But 
the  dead?  Are  those  temples  to  death  the 
conqueror,  or  to  the  living  he  conquered  ?  " 

"  Rumors  had  come  to  them  of  long  jour- 
8* 


1 78         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

neys  of  the  soul  when  it  departs  hence,"  said 
Laon.  "  These  were  written  in  their  Book 
of  the  Ritual  of  the  dead;  and  therein  they 
swathed  their  mummies.  A  strange  itinerary 
for  the  long  journey  of  the  soul  when  it  leaves 
the  body,  directions  of  the  way  it  is  to  take, 
descriptions  of  the  enemies  and  the  adven- 
tures it  is  to  meet  in  the  unknown  world,  and 
of  a  solemn  judgment  it  is  to  undergo  beyond 
the  dark  waters  for  the  deeds  done  in  the 
body." 

"It? — the  soul? — we?"  asked  Siward  ea- 
gerly. "Who  would  not  hear  more  of  this? 
But  if  it — if  we — depart,  for  whom  is  this 
abode  made  beautiful?  The  soul  never  en- 
tered here ;  she  had  begun  the  long  journey 
before  the  mummy  was  laid  here.  What 
knows  she  of  this?  What  is  all  this  to 
her?" 

"  What  do  we  know  ?  "  said  Laon.  "  What 
is  all  this  world,  what  are  heaven  and  earth, 
stars,  deserts,  and  seas  to  us?  " 

"  But,  Laon,"  said  the  boy,  "  they  must  have 
thought  they  knew.  They  must  have  meant 
to  serve  some  one  by  all  this." 

"  There  were  dim  sayings  about  the  soul 
coming  back  to  claim  its  old  companion  ;  of  a 
Rising  Again,"  said  the  old  man  musingly. 
"  But  this  I  cannot  think ;  to  come  back  from 
the  stars  and  the  free  heavens,  and  the  acquit- 


VICTORY  OF  TUB   VANQUISHED.         ijg 

tal  of  the  great  judgment,  to  this?  Does  the 
Psyche  come  back  into  the  chrysalis  ?  " 

And  silently  they  left  the  silent  place. 

But  days  afterwards,  as  they  were  sitting 
one  evening  on  the  deck  of  the  boat  on  the 
broad  Nile,  Siward  said  to  Laon, — 

"  Who  wrote  that  Book  of  the  long  journey 
of  the  dead  ?  Who  could  write  it  but  some 
one  who  had  gone  and  come  back  ?  Did  this 
ancient  people  ever  know  of  one  who  had  ?  " 

Laon  shook  his  head. 

"  The  Egyptians  are  indeed  an  ancient 
people,"  he  said.  "  But  the  most  ancient  na- 
tions in  the  world  have  no  record  of  any  who 
came  back  to  tell  of  that  journey." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  afterwards  looking 
up  through  the  pure  night  air  and  through 
the  stars,  Siward  spoke  again, — 

"  Laon,"  he  said,  "  these  tombs  are  for  the 
rich.  The  rich  only  who  can  build  them- 
selves houses  on  earth  can  be  embalmed,  or 
can  build  themselves  enduring  dwellings. 
Here,  also,  as  in  our  Valhalla,  the  dwelling- 
place  of  our  elect,  our  heroes,  there  is  no 
place  for  the  poor,  for  the  slave,  for  the  multi- 
tude." 

"  Philosophy  has  her  high  things  for  the 
slave,  for  the  poor,"  said  Laon. 

"  For  the  wise  slave,"  Siward  rejoined,  "  the 
wise  poor,  those  who  are  rich  in  inner  wealth. 


I8o  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

But  these  multitudes,  everywhere,  these  poor 
disarmed  peasants  who  toil  from  morning  to 
night  with  no  reward  but  blows,  and  hardly 
bread  enough  to  keep  them  from  starvation, — 
for  these  no  one  has  any  hope,  nor  any  good 
tidings ! " 

"  These  multitudes,"  said  old  Laon  careless- 
ly, "  the  base,  ignorant  multitudes  !  Those 
who  in  Rome,  if  free,  live  as  beggars  on  the 
doles  of  Egyptian  corn  ;  swarming  like 
noisome  flies  about  the  tall  houses  of  the 
Suburra,  and  finding  their  highest  pleasure 
in  seeing  beasts  and  men  torture  each  other 
at  the  games  ?  The  multitudes  who,  in  Athens, 
suffered  Socrates  to  be  murdered  ?  who  live 
butterflies  or  grasshoppers,  chattering  and 
fluttering  from  infancy  to  dotage  ?  What 
good  tidings  would  you  have  for  them  ? 
They  chirp  and  flutter,  or  sting  and  buzz,  or 
croak  and  paddle  away  their  little  lives,  and 
perhaps  even  store  honey  and  wax  for  the 
generations  of  a  coming  summer?  What 
would  you  have  more  for  such  ?  Some  other 
world  in  which  they  may  chirp  and  buzz,  and 
flutter  and  chatter  on  for  ever,  and  perhaps 
not  croak  or  sting  ?  It  is  to  be  hoped  in  all 
courtesy  that  such  a  world  exists.  But  who 
would  care  to  know?  Not  they,  at  least." 

"Oh,  Laon,"  said  the  German  captive,  "/ 
am  not  wise!  I  feel  it  but  too  keenly  among 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         igi 

all  these  generations  of  the  wise.  I  am  not 
wise,  I  or  mine,  as  your  sages.  For  us  what 
good  tidings  can  come?" 

"  If  your  race  have  not  the  wisdom  of  our 
sages,"  interposed  Callias,  who  had  been 
standing  near,  "  you  have  beauty,  of  soul  and 
flesh.  And  for  Beauty  there  is  a  place  for 
ever.  Because  Beauty,  as  well  as  Wisdom, 
and  Justice,  and  Truth,  are  real ;  at  least,  so 
Laon's  sages  say." 

The  boy  shook  his  head. 

"  That  any  should  be  beautiful  seems  such 
an  accident,"  he  said.  "  These  toiling,  suffer- 
ing multitudes,  crouching  under  yokes,  with 
the  Beauty  as  well  as  the  Wisdom  crushed 
out  of  them ;  to  such  it  seems  strange  that  no 
religion  and  no  philosophy  can  give  a  helping 
hand,  or  a  pitying  word.  For  these  are  in 
the  world  everywhere.  These  are  the  multi- 
tudes." 

"  For  those  who  have  neither  Beauty  nor 
Wisdom,"  replied  Callias,  with  a  disdainful 
smile,  "  for  those,  indeed,  I  think  the  less  room 
the  better,  in  any  world  !  " 

But  Siward's  earnest  nature  wa's  aroused, 
and  not  easily  to  be  lulled. 

"  It  seems,"  he  said  to  Laon,  "  almost  as  if 
the  whole  race  of  men  were  like  those  doomed 
races  you  told  me  of,  pursued  by  solemn 
avenging  Eumenides.  If  one  could  tell  for 


1 82        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

what  crimes,  or  for  whose,  and  find  an  expia- 
tion !  or  at  least  teach  men  how  to  avoid  such 
evil  for  the  future  !  " 

"  Philosophy  does  tell  the  wise,"  said  old 
Laon.  "Are  you  not  wise?  Then  rise  above 
these  multitudes,  and  become  wise.  I  am  try- 
ing to  teach  you  all  day  long." 

And,  with  some  impatience,  he  closed  the 
dialogue. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

T  length  the  journey  through  Egypt 
was  over.  Germanicus  and  his 
household  were  all  bound  for  Anti- 
och,  but  by  different  routes. 
Some  had  gone  by  sea  to  Seleucia.  To 
Laon  and  Siward  it  was  permitted  to  accom- 
pany Callias,  who  was  to  pass  through  Judasa 
to  Tiberias,  the  new  city  of  Herod  Antipas, 
which  he  was  adorning  with  Greek  sculpture. 
It  was  said  that  in  Syria  some  secrets  were 
known  as  to  the  tempering  of  fine  sword- 
blades  ;  and  old  Laon  hoped  to  gain  some 
knowledge  which  would  enrich  him  in  the 
years  of  liberty  which  he  was  expecting.  Si- 
guna  also  and  little  Hilda  were  with  them. 

As  they  paced  up  and  down  on  the  long 
quays  of  Alexandria,  waiting  for  the  ship 
which  was  to  carry  them  to  Joppa,  they  fre- 
quently passed  an  old  man  who  was  standing 
under  the  shadow  of  the  angle  of  a  wall,  with 
a  woman  seated  beside  him,  still  comparative- 

(183) 


1 84         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

ly  young,  the  pallor  and  Lhe  changed  curves 
of  her  face  apparently  the  result  rather  of  sor- 
row than  of  age. 

The  old  man's  lips  were  moving  in  an  audi- 
ble murmur,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  pay  any 
heed  to  the  passers-by.  His  absorption  in  his 
occupation  and  indifference  to  all  around  ex- 
ercised a  kind  of  fascination  on  Siward,  and 
Laon's  words  fell  on  his  ear  uncomprehended 
as  he  watched  the  strangers.  The  dress  of  the 
old  man  was  unusual ;  on  his  brow,  around 
his  wrists,  and  on  the  fringed  hems  of  his  long 
white  robe,  were  bound  strips  of  parchment 
inscribed  with  strange  large  black  letters,  not 
like  either  Greek  or  Latin ;  and  from  time  to 
time  he  made  low  obeisances,  touching  his 
forehead  as  if  in  homage  to  some  unseen 
throne.  The  murmured  words  also,  when 
Siward  came  near  enough  to  hear  them,  he 
found  were  in  a  language  utterly  unintelligi- 
ble to  him,  nasal,  guttural,  with  weird,  sad, 
monotonous  cadences  in  the  voice. 

At  length  he  ventured  to  ask  Laon  who  this 
stranger  could  be,  and  what  he  would  be 
doing. 

Laon  cast  a  careless  passing  glance  on  the 
old  man  and  the  sad-looking  woman,  and  said 
lightly- 

"  Jews !  Jews  !  only  some  old  Jewish  bigot 
praying." 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         185 

"Praying  to  what  —  to  whom?"  Siward 
ventured  to  inquire  further.  "  There  is  no 
temple  and  no  image." 

"  How  can  I  tell?"  said  Laon  hastily.  "  Do 
I  know  every  superstition  of  every  tribe  in 
these  superstitious  Oriental  countries  ?  Pray- 
ing to  the  bits  of  his  law  written  on  his  gar- 
ment, perhaps.  When  Pompey  entered  the 
Sanctuary  of  their  Temple,  he  is  said  to  have 
found  it  empty.  But  there  were  traditions  of 
its  once  having  contained  stone  tables  with 
writing  on  them.  I  suppose  they  worship 
their  Book.  They  boast  that  they  have  a 
very  ancient  sacred  Book.  But  how  should 
I  know?  It  concerns  no  one  but  themselves. 
They  look  on  themselves  as  the  rightful  mas- 
ters of  the  world,  and  on  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  as  enemies.  When  they  could,  they 
massacred  every  one  who  came  near  them,  on 
the  ground  of  their  not  being  Jews.  And 
probably  they  would  do  the  same  now,  if  they 
could  ;  they  are  always  in  insurrection,  fol- 
lowing some  Pretender  who  promises  to  make 
them  a  nation  of  kings.  But  the  Roman  rule 
is  good  at  least  for  this.  It  keeps  down  fa- 
natics like  these.  And  yet  they  creep  in  ev- 
erywhere. They  have  a  genius  for  money- 
making.  Here  at  Alexandria  they  all  but 
outnumber  the  Greeks,  and  have  two  of  the 
best  quarters  of  the  City  to  themselves." 


1 86        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

There  was  something  in  Laon's  tone,  in 
speaking  of  this  Jew,  so  different  from  his 
usual  light  and  courteous  tolerance  of  other 
religions  and  opinions,  that  Si  ward  was  per- 
plexed. And  at  that  moment  the  words  of 
Clcelia  Diodora  about  the  old  Jew  by  the 
fountain  of  Egeria  at  Rome  flashed  back  on 
his  memory. 

"  They  are  always  following  some  Pretend- 
er," he  mused,  repeating  Laon's  words  to 
himself;  and  in  his  calm  Teutonic  way  he 
pondered  the  matter  over  in  silence,  until 
he  came  on  what  seemed  to  him  a  solution. 
"  Perhaps  because  of  this  Great  One  the  old 
prophecy  told  them  to  expect." 

And  this  ancient  adored  Book,  this  intense 
and  exclusive  Patriotism,  this  long-expected 
Deliverer  linked  themselves  together  in  his 
mind. 

He  longed  to  ask  more,  but  felt  that  in  La- 
on's present  frame  of  mind  questions  were 
more  likely  to  close  than  to  open  further 
sources  of  information,  and  was  silent. 

Laon  only  vouchsafed  one  more  remark  on 
the  subject. 

"  What  these  Jews  believe  or  worship,"  he 
said,  "  is  of  no  moment  to  any  but  themselves. 
The  exceptionally  bad  thing  about  them  is 
that  they  have  no  respect  for  other  peoples' 
religions  or  gods,  but  have  the  audacity  to 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         ^7 

declare  that  there  is  no  God  save  their  own, 
and  that  all  other  worship  is  not  merely  use- 
less but  wicked.  Any  belief  may  be  tolerated 
in  men,  especially  if  it  is  hereditary  and  na- 
tional, if  people  will  keep  it  to  themselves. 
But  a  religion  which  would  invade  and  con- 
quer all  other  religions,  is  not  to  be  tolerated, 
any  more  than  a  nation  which  does  the  same. 
Unless,,  indeed,  it  can  succeed,"  he  concluded, 
sarcastically.  "  In  which  case  the  only  rem- 
edy is  to  conquer  the  conqueror  from  within, 
as  we  Greeks  reconquer  the  Romans  who  can 
think." 

The  voyage  to  Joppa  lasted  some  days,  in 
consequence  of  contrary  winds  and  calms. 

The  Jewish  strangers  were  their  fellow- 
passengers. 

At  first  they  kept  strictly  apart ;  but  often 
Sig'una's  eyes  met  those  of  the  Hebrew  wom- 
an sadly  watching  her  and  little  Hilda,  until 
by  degrees  a  friendly  intercourse  sprang  up 
between  them.  At  first  only  by  means  of 
signs,  little  attentions  to  the  child,  little  pres- 
ents of  Syrian  confectionary,  little  nameless 
kindnesses.  Then  a  few  broken  Greek  words, 
or  Latin,  and  such  extemporized  language  as 
hearts  drawn  to  each  other  can  always  find  ; 
and  now  and  then  Siward,  with  his  more  ex- 
tended knowledge  of  Greek,  was  called  on  to 
interpret. 


1 88        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  He  is  your  son,"  the  Jewess  said.  "You 
are  happy.  You  live  for  him." 

"  We  are  slaves ;  we  arc  exiles,"  the  Ger- 
man mother  replied.  "  We  live  for  our  mas- 
ters' will.  I  may  be  separated  from  him  at 
any  moment,  at  any  caprice  of  our  enemies." 

"  I  am  separated  from  my  sons.  For  ever. 
By  the  will  we  can  none  of  us  resist ;  by  the 
bars  we  can  none  of  us  pass.  God  is  almighty. 
The  sacred  writers  say  He  is  merciful." 

And  slowly,  through  the  quiet  hours,  the 
story  of  her  life  crept  out. 

"  I  had  two  children,  once,  like  you.  He 
took  them  both.  We  lived  in  Rome,  near 
the  Fountain  of  Egeria,  on  the  Cloelian  Hill. 
We  were  poor.  The  river  overflowed,  and 
flooded  the  low  grounds  of  the  City.  The 
noisome  exhalations  entered  our  little  home. 
Others,  who  were  rich,  fled.  We  were  poor, 
and  had  nowhere  to  fly  to.  The  fever  seized 
my  boys.  First  the  youngest,  a  babe,  then 
the  eldest,  a  child  like  this.  We  laid  them 
underneath  the  rocky  hills,  in  the  Catacombs 
of  our  people.  We  would  not  bury  our  dead 
among  the  heathen.  On  their  graves  we 
carved  the  dove  with  the  olive  branch,  and 
the  word  Peace.  For  my  father  is  holy  as 
one  of  the  prophets.  And  he  said,  '  The  wa- 
ters will  subside,  the  flood  which  sweeps  all 
the  race  of  men  away ;  and,  as  the  dove  in 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         jgQ 

the  Deluge  of  old,  these  our  sweet  babes  shall 
be  welcomed  into  the  Ark  of  God — bearing 
the  olive  branch  of  peace."  And  even  now 
they  are  at  peace.  But  from  me,  from  me 
peace  is  gone  for  ever,  until  I  rest  where  they 
rest ;  until  the  heavens  are  no  more,  and  I  am 
welcomed  where  they  shall  be  welcomed.  If 
ever  He  deems  me  worthy,  Who  has  found 
me  so  unworthy  of  His  gifts  here." 

So,  through  the  days  they  were  together, 
she  spoke.  To  Siguna  much  that  she  said 
was  dim  and  strange,  but  the  mothers'  hearts 
interpreted  each  other. 

Only,  the  wife  of  Olave  the  brave  soldier 
and  smith  wondered  that  the  stranger  spoke 
so  little  of  her  husband.  The  sons  seemed  to 
have  been  everything  to  her.  She  watched 
the  old  Jew  to  see  why  and  how  this  could  be. 

And  by  degrees  she  began  to  understand. 

Their  journeying  with  the  Jewish  strangers 
did  not  end  with  the  voyage.  Then,  as  now, 
in  spite  of  the  firmness  of  the  Roman  rule, 
it  was  expedient  for  travelers  in  Judasa  or 
Galilee  to  travel  in  companies.  Besides  the 
danger  of  the  predatory  wandering  Arabs, 
always  penetrating  into  the  heart  of  the  coun- 
try by  means  of  the  creeks  of  desert  which 
run  up  into  it  from  the  east,  the  land  was  in- 
fested by  the  remains  of  various  bands  of  fa- 
natical insurgents — precursors  of  the  "  Assas- 


I9o         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

sins" — followers  of  Judas  of  Galilee,  in  their 
own  eyes  consecrating  a  life  of  lawless  rapine 
by  a  fierce  fanatical  patriotism,  and  by  wild 
hopes  of  a  coming  Jewish  King. 

The  Jew  Onias  was  glad  of  Gentile  protec- 
tion for  himself  and  "his  wife  Esther,  and  for 
the  numerous  gold  pieces  which,  in  spite  of 
his  apparent  poverty,  he  knew  experienced 
thieves  would  soon  have  detected  under  the 
hems  and  folds  of  his  garments.  And  while 
sympathy  had  broken  down  the  barrier  of 
race  between  the  German  mother  and  the 
childless  Esther,  old  Laon  and  Onias  had 
found  a  meeting-point  in  sundry  elaborate  ne- 
gotiations concerning  the  manufacture  and 
sale  of  arms. 

Their  destination  also  was  the  same.  An- 
tioch  was  the  present  abode  of  Onias  and  Est- 
her, as  well  as  the  native  city  of  Laon. 

It  seemed  to  Laon  that  when  once  he  should 
be  free,  and  supplied  with  the  capital  which 
Onias  "  thought  he  had  friends"  who  might 
lend  him,  all  things  would  be  possible  to  him 
— for  himself  and  those  he  cared  to  help.  In- 
deed, he  felt  already  in  the  position  of  a  pa- 
tron to  Siward,  Siguna,  and  Callias ;  and  ac- 
cordingly, armed  with  these  benevolent  inten- 
tions, he  indulged  himself  even  more  than 
usually  by  sarcasms  and  whimsical  severities 
of  language 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         igi 

And  meanwhile  the  lives  of  the  sisters 
Cloelia  flowed  on  with  a  slow  monotony  at 
Rome. 

Services  begun  with  enthusiasm  by  the 
young  Vestal  priestess  fell  into  a  grave  dull 
routine. 

"  For  Rome  !  For  Rome  !"  she  repeated 
to  herself,  as  she  fed  the  sacred  fire,  or  drew 
the  pure  water  from  the  spring.  "  I  am  only 
doing  simple  woman's  work — such  as  every 
matron  does  for  her  husband's  hearth — for 
the  hearth-fire  of  the  Patria,  of  Rome." 

But  none  of  the  sorrows  and  joys  which 
keep  the  even  flow  of  daily  duty  musical,  by 
breaking  it,  in  lives  which  flow  in  natural 
channels,  came  to  keep  the  music  fresh  in  the 
Vestal's  heart. 

More  and  more  mechanical  became  the 
Temple  services  for  her. 

And  through  the  monotonous  syllables, 
which  lost  their  meaning  by  repetition,  more 
and  more  frequently  jarred  sharp  interjections 
of  doubt. 

Who,  what  was  this  fire-goddess  whom  she 
served  ?  One  of  a  confused  multitude  of  di- 
vinities on  Olympus  ?  Did  she  know  who 
served  her  ?  Did  she  care  ?  Was  she  good  ? 
All  on  Olympus  were  not.  What  was  Rome 
to  her  ?  Or,  again,  was  she  more  ancient  than 
Olympus  ?  Some  hidden  force  of  nature  ? 


1 92        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Impersonal,  then,  and  regardless  of  man  as 
the  earthquake  or  the  lightning  ? 

This  Palladium  which  she  guarded  in  the 
sealed  vase.  What  was  it  ?  Who  had  thus 
mysteriously  bound  destruction  and  misery 
with  such  accidents  as  the  breaking  of  an 
earthen  vase,  or  the  extinction  of  a  spark  of 
fire  ?  The  same  capricious  powers  which  sent 
earthquake,  and  lightning,  and  storm  ?  and 
suffered  the  good,  like  her  sister,  to  be  de- 
formed and  wretched,  and  the  bad,  like  so 
many  she  heard  of,  to  be  beautiful  and  pros- 
perous ? 

What,  who  ruled  the  world  ?  Was  it  ruled 
by  some  good  Beings,  who  could  not  be  dis- 
turbed in  the  divine  calm  of  their  perpetual 
festival  by  the  brief  woes  of  men  ?  Or,  rather, 
by  some  slumbering  evil  Beings,  whom  it 
must  be  the  ceaseless  solicitude  of  men  not  to 
awake  to  malignant  vengeance  by  treading 
on  some  of  their  smallest  incomprehensible 
caprices  ?  Or,  again,  by  some  steady  irresisti- 
ble Destiny,  which  wove  in  its  unresting  loom, 
with  entire  indifference,  the  dark  and  the  light 
threads,  both  inevitable,  into  the  course  of 
nature  or  the  life  of  man  ? 

In  any  case,  what  was  the  meaning  of  her 
ministry  ?  Was  it  really  serving  the  gods,  or 
Rome,  or  any  one  ? 

Then  .this  Rome  itself,  the   Patria  !     How 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

could  she  close  her  ears  to  all  the  dark  ru- 
mors of  the  wickedness  around  her?  The 
vestals  lived  in  no  cloistral  seclusion ;  they 
had  places  of  honor  at  the  gladiatorial  games ; 
and  that  spectacle  of  torture  and  death  which, 
it  is  said,  no  Latin  author  dares  to  defend, 
must  have  smitten  with  horror,  at  least  at 
first,  other  hearts  than  that  of  Clcelia  Pulchra. 
Moreover,  she  could  not  enter  nor  leave  the 
games,  nor  pass  through  the  streets,  without 
becoming  acquainted  with  evil  unutterable. 

Was  this  Rome  indeed  worth  serving  by 
such  a  sacrifice  as  her  life  ? 

And  even  if  worth  serving,  might  she  not 
have  served  it  a  thousandfold  better  by  keep- 
ing one  humble  home  pure  and  warm  with 
love,  as  Agrippina  kept  the  hearth  of  Ger- 
manicus  ? 

So  her  days  passed,  till  her  whole  life  some- 
times seemed  like  a  mechanical  sleep-walk- 
ing, the  only  reality  in  it  the  love  of  her  little 
sister ;  and  that  love,  in  the  unavailing  pity 
it  called  forth,  more  than  half  sorrow. 

With  Clcelia,  the  deformed,  there  were  in- 
deed breaks  enough  in  the  daily  current,  sharp 
rebukes  and  reproaches,  and  contemptuous 
neglect  worse  than  either.  Yet  the  life,  being 
more  natural,  bitter  as  it  often  was,  had  sweet- 
er moments.  Her  love  for  her  sister  also  had 
in  it  far  more  of  joy  than  of  sorrow.  Fervent, 
9 


IQ4        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

adoring,  satisfied,  it  was  at  once  a  passion  and 
a  religion.  In  Clcelia  she  believed,  she  knew, 
she  saw  that  "  beauty  and  goodness  and  truth 
were  real,  and  do  exist." 

The  tender  pensiveness  which  she  often  saw 
on  the  dear  beautiful  face  only  made  it  more 
sacred. 

The  doubt  and  darkness  below,  the  young 
priestess  would  not  for  the  world  have  be- 
trayed. 

Doubt,  which  is  without  hope  of  a  solution 
in  noble  natures,  is  silent.  If  it  finds  a  voice, 
it  is  because  a  faint  glimmering  of  some  sun- 
rise of  Hope  has  touched  the  strong  Memnon 
and  made  it  speak. 

Once  only,  when  the  deformed  girl  spoke 
of  what  the  old  Jew  had  said  of  the  hope  of 
his  people,  did  Clcelia  the  Vestal  betray  the 
void  within. 

"  Did  the  old  Jew  say  his  nation  had  cher- 
ished the  hope  for  thousands  of  years,  and 
that  he  believes  it  near  now  ?  Has  any  peo- 
ple in  the  world  kept  hope  alive  so  long  ? 
Has  any  heart  in  the  world  a  hope  which 
grows  brighter  as  the  days  wear  on  ?  and  we 
have  to  see  things  as  they  are.  What  has  fed 
this  hope  ?  Such  a  hope  seems  in  itself  a 
miracle.  It  is  like  a  sunrise  living  on  through 
the  dulness  of  the  common  working-day." 

Clcelia  Diodora  remembered  the  discour- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         195 

aging  words  of  Laon,  his  scornful  warning 
against  the  Jews,  and  trembled  at  this  eager 
reception  of  her  words,  lest  by  any  unguarded 
declaration  she  should  bring  the  sister  she 
adored  into  contact  with  any  evil  chance. 
And  she  replied, — 

"  Laon  said  the  Jews  are  a  people'of  misan- 
thropes, and  probably  of  atheists.  That  is 
they  hate  the  men  of  all  other  races,  and  blas- 
pheme the  gods  of  all  other  men.  He  said 
they  were  a  set  of  runaway  slaves,  who,  be- 
cause they  had  had  no  golden  age  in  the  past, 
threw  it  into  the  future.  The  old  Jew  I  saw 
did  not  indeed  seem  to  hate  me.  But  Laon 
bid  me  beware  of  them  and  their  superstition 
the  last  morning  before  he  left.  And  I  have 
not  spoken  to  the  old  Jew  since." 

The  Vestal  turned  sadly  away. 

"  A  hope  which  makes  men  hate  other  men 
instead  of  loving  them  cannot  be  worth  much," 
she  said. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


O  Siward,  the  words  of  the  Jewess 
Esther,  as  far  as  he  heard  them,  from 
herself  or  from  his  mother,  were  like 
mystic  oracles  spoken  dimly  in  some 
echoing-  cavern,  beside  the  bubbling  of  a  liv- 
ing fountain.  They  opened,  as  through  a  veil 
lifted  for  an  instant  and  then  dropped  again, 
glimpses  into  unknown  worlds. 

Chiefly  because  there  was  a  certainty  in 
them  which,  amid  all  the  confused  and  uncer- 
tain sounds  around  him,  smote  on  his  mind 
and  conscience,  as  the  call  of  a  trumpet  to 
battle  amidst  the  vague  rushing  of  winds,  like 
a  voice  through  the  rolling  of  thunders. 

This  strange  people,  scattered  everywhere, 
yet  possessed  by  a  patriotism  intense  as  his 
own,  with  the  Sacred  Book,  with  the  Hope 
of  a  Deliverer,  attracted  him  irresistibly. 

And  now  pervading  all  these  came  another 
thought,  which  seemed  to  inspire  all. 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  and  way 
(196) 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         197 

in  which  this  Jewess  uttered  the  name  of  God, 
entirely  different  from  anything  he  had  ever 
heard  before. 

It  was  not  only  that  she  spoke  of  only  one 
God.  She  spoke  of  that  One  with  a  quiet 
certainty  which  made  all  the  gods  he  had 
heard  of  before  retire  as  into  a  world  of  shades. 
He  could  not  have  denned  how,  but  it  made 
him  think  of  a  mock  sun  he  had  once  seen  in 
a  misty  morning  on  the  Northern  mountains, 
coldly  shining  until  the  real  sun  rose  and  the 
mists  cleared  and  warmed  the  world.  The 
mock  sun  was  not  nothing.  If  there  had  been 
no  real  sun,  it  could  not  have  been. 

The  shades  in  the  under  world  were  not 
nothing.  If  there  had  not  been  men,  there 
could  not  be  shades.  But  as  the  warm  press- 
ure to  a  beating  human  heart  to  the  empty 
meeting  of  arms  folded  in  a  vain  embrace 
around  those  dim  forms — as  the  ringing  tones 
of  a  living  human  voice  to  the  attempted 
sounds  dying  on  those  gasping  lips — so  seemed 
to  him  the  God  of  this  Esther  the  Jewess  to 
any  god  he  had  ever  known  of  before. 

It  was  not  often  she  uttered  the  name.  It 
was  scarcely  with  love,  only  always  with  a 
quiet  certainty  of  His  living  as  really  as  any 
she  spoke  to  were  living ;  a  sense  of  an  inevit- 
able, unchangeable  relationship  to  Him,  and 
a  conviction  that  He  had  spoken  to  men. 


1 98        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Other  gods  might  be  spoken  about,  perhaps 
spoken  to.  This  God  had  spoken.  And  with 
irresistible  longing  Siward  wanted  to  learn 
what,  and  to  whom. 

Esther,  and  even  Onias,  seemed  to  walk 
with  a  freer  step  and  a  higher  bearing  from 
the  moment  they  first  trod  the  soil  of  Judaea. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  City  and  the  House  of 
our  God,"  Esther  said,  and  her  eyes  kindled. 

And  all  day,  as  they  rode  among  the  corn- 
fields and  the  orange-gardens  of  the  maritime 
plain,  or  among  the  vineyards  and  olive-groves 
of  the  terraced  hill-sides,  her  lips  were  mur- 
muring fragments  of  the  ancient  songs  of  her 
people.  Strangely  different  from  the  songs 
and  legends  of  all  other  people,  in  this, — that 
through  all  the  battle-songs  and  the  strains 
of  mournful  or  exulting  patriotism,  through 
all  the  stories  of  tender  domestic  love  or  of 
heroic  sacrifice,  penetrates  one  living  Name, 
pervading,  deepening,  inspiring  all.  Jerusalem 
is  not  the  Sacred  City  only — it  is  the  "  City 
of  our  God  ;"  Zion  is  the  perfection  of  beau- 
ty, for  out  of  Zion  God  hath  shined  ;  it  is  not 
the  Temple  and  its  services  chiefly  for  which 
the  singer's  heart  sighs  :  "  As  the  hart  pant- 
eth  for  the  water  brooks,  my  heart  panteth 
for  Thee,  O  God.  My  soul  thirsteth  for  God, 
for  the  living  God.  When  shall  I  come  and 
appear  before  Thee  ?" 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

All  the  day,  as  they  slowly  descended  into 
the  valleys  or  climbed  the  rocky  hills,  a 
solemnity  seemed  to  deepen  over  the  Jewish 
woman.  She  scarcely  spoke  to  any  one,  and 
at  length,  when  the  last  separating  range  was 
crossed,  and  the  towers  and  palaces  and  mas- 
sive bulwarks,  and  above  all  the  lofty  fagade 
of  the  Temple,  came  in  sight,  she  alighted 
from  the  ass  she  was  riding,  stretched  out  her 
arms,  then  clasped  her  hands  together  as  in 
prayer,  and  wept. 

She  was  a  daughter  of  Jerusalem  ;  but  she 
had  not  seen  the  city  since  her  childhood. 
Her  father,  now  an  aged  man  in  Rome,  and 
her  mother,  long  since  dead,  had  led  her 
childish  feet  along  those  streets,  and -taught 
her  to  bend  in  prayer  within  those  sacred 
courts.  Her  parents  were  among  the  few  not 
spoken  of  in  any  histories,  Latin  or  Greek  or 
Jewish,  save  in  the  one  history  which  is  occu- 
pied not  with  princes  and  states,  but  with 
God  and  man.  They  were  of  those  who  had 
waited  in  Jerusalem  for  God,  and  One  whom 
He  would  send. 

Onias  also  dismounted  and  walked  beside 
her.  He  also  had  been  saying  long  prayers 
through  the  day.  But  his  mind  was  too  full 
of  the  results  of  his  negotiations  with  Laon 
not  to  confide  them  to  her. 

"Esther,"  he  said,  "it  is  written,  the  Gen- 


200         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

tiles  shall  be  our  ploughmen  and  our  bonds- 
men. It  is  fulfilled  this  day,  in  a  figure.  This 
old  Greek  is  an  armourer  of  the  first  quality. 
He  is  to  establish  an  armoury  at  Antioch,  his 
native  city,  where  for  the  present  we  are  to 
abide.  I  shall  take  his  wares  on  the  most  ad- 
vantageous terms.  At  length  I  have  arranged 
all.  I  can  have  sale  to  any  extent  for  such 
weapons  among  our  own  people." 

"  Is  there  not  risk  in  such  trade?"  she  said, 
trying  to  bring  back  her  thoughts  to  meet 
his.  "  Will  not  the  Roman  soldiers  hinder 
it?" 

"  Risk  there  may  be,"  he  said,  loftily,  but 
lowering  his  voice.  "  What  great  good  is  to 
be  gained  without  risk  ?  But  our  people  may 
have  use  for  arms  the  Gentiles  will  neither 
like  nor  hinder.  For  Israel  is  it  not  worth 
while  to  run  some  risk  ?  Was  there  no  risk 
to  Gideon  or  to  David  the  king?  Besides," 
he  added,  as  if  to  himself,  "£he  profits  are 
something  out  of  the  common  way.  I  am 
afraid  to  tell  thee  what  they  may  be.  This 
Greek  cannot  get  on  without  my  help,  and 
naturally  he  must  pay  for  it.  Thou  mayest 
live  like  a  princess." 

"  I  am  no  princess,  Onias,"  she  said  ;  "  not 
even  the  humblest  mother  in  Israel,"  she  ad- 
ded, with  a  sudden  burst  of  pain.  "  What  are 
gold  and  silver  to  me  ?" 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         2QI 

"  Have  I  ever  murmured  at  that?"  he  said, 
with  an  altered  tone.  "  He  gave,  and  He  hath 
taken  away." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said ;  "  thou  hast  not  mur- 
mured. It  is  I  who  have  murmured  and  sin- 
ned, and  brought  the  curse  on  thee.  If  only 
He  had  taken  the  silver  and  the  gold,  and  left 
the  babes." 

"  Silver  and  gold  had  we  none  the  less 
needed,  had  the  babes  been  left,"  he  said,  in  a 
tone  of  rebuke,  half  dreading  what  judgment 
might  follow  a  wish,  in  his  eyes  so  profane. 
"  Gold  is  good,  come  when  it  may.  Let  us 
not  forget  to  praise  God,  therefore.  He  is 
the  giver  of  all.  And  praise  is  acceptable  to 
Him." 

Accustomed  as  she  was,  in  her  husband,  to 
the  inextricable  confusion  of  love  of  country 
with  a  half-bargaining,  half-trembling  religion, 
his  words  did  not  surprise  her.  She  attempt- 
ed no  reply,  and  they  entered  the  gates  of 
Jerusalem  in  silence. 

The  city  was  magnificent  with  the  buildings 
of  the  great  builder,  Herod  the  Great.  He 
had  died  only  twenty  years  before,  and  the 
freshness  of  tint  and  of  cutting  had  not  passed 
from  the  stone  walls  of  the  great  amphitheatre, 
which  he  had  excavated  and  built  outside  the 
walls. 

Onias,  from  his  Pharisaic  adherence  to  the 
9* 


202        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUJSIIED. 

ancient  law,  and  Esther,  with  her  worship  of 
the  living  Lawgiver,  looked  with  equal  horror 
on  these  signs  of  Gentile  dominion.  Gentile 
culture  that  could  scarcely  be  called,  which 
was  to  be  promoted  by  the  sanguinary  con- 
flicts of  the  amphitheatre  outside  the  walls,  or 
the  unhallowed  exhibitions  of  the  theatre 
within. 

"  Your  people,"  said  Laon  to  Onias,  "  rose 
in  insurrection,  it  is  said,  in  the  days  of  Herod 
the  Great,  because  he  set  up  empty  suits  of 
armour  around  the  theatre.  Is  this  true  ?" 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  Onias,  his  eyes  kind- 
ling ;  "  and  they  did  well.  Our  law  forbids 
such  idolatrous  usages.  They  also  did  well 
and  died  well, — the  young  men  who  were 
burned  alive  for  tearing  down  the  image  of 
an  eagle  which  the  king  had  dared  set  up 
over  the  Temple  gate.  The  men  were  burned 
alive.  But  the  eagle  has  never  been  replaced. 
The  Holy  City  is  desecrated  by  no  idols. 
The  Roman  governors  themselves  venture 
not  to  profane  ife  by  bringing  their  idolatrous 
standards  within  its  gates.  The  troops  are 
quartered  at  the  new  city  of  Csesar,  not  in  the 
City  of  David." 

"  A  golden  eagle  might  have  attractions  to 
the  most  pious  crowds,"  suggested  Laon,  sar- 
castically. "  The  gold,  if  not  the  image.  It 
could  doubtless  be  melted  down,  as  your  an- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        203 

cestors,  I  think,  did  with  the  gold  ornaments 
of  the  Egyptians.  Only,  if  I  mistake  not,  they 
did  not  use  them  in  a  way  your  Lawgiver  ap- 
proved. There  is  a  story  of  a  golden  calf, 
made  long  before  the  days  of  these  Romans." 

"  Our  people  sinned  and  suffered,"  said 
Onias,  gravely.  "  For  this  they  were  led  into 
captivity  in  Babylon.  But  since  the  restora- 
tion they  have  never  sinned  thus  again." 

"  Never  sinned  thus,  indeed  ?"  remarked 
Laon.  "  I  see ;  your  people  are  wiser.  It 
displeases  their  Lawgiver  to  have  the  gold 
molten  into  a  calf  or  an  eagle.  Therefore 
they  melt  it  into  gold  pieces.  They  are  wise. 
Gold  pieces  buy  Gentile  wares,  and  can  be 
worshiped  without  transgressing  the  law." 

Onias  turned  aside  to  the  minor  accusation. 

"  We  do  not  worship  the  gold  pieces.  In 
Judaea,  we  suffer  not  even  the  image  of  the 
Emperor  to  be  stamped  on  our  Jewish  coins. 
The  Roman  governors  respect  our  belief. 
We  would  die  rather  than  consent  to  have 
idolatrous  symbols  set  up  within  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem." 

It  was  true.  The  Roman  governors  knew 
it.  And  old  Laon  knew  it. 

"  You  are  a  wonderful  people,"  he  said, 
more  respectfully  ;  "  loving  money  as  you  do, 
to  love  something  you  call  your  Divine  law 
better.  And  yet  it  is  said  your  law  is  as 


204        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

strong  in  insisting  on  mercy  and  in  forbidding 
unfair  dealing  as  in  denouncing  images.  Are 
there  no  oppressed  poor  and  no  hard  bargains 
within  the  walls  of  your  Sacred  City  ?" 

"  We  are  not  what  we  should  be  in  the  eyes 
of  our  God,"  said  Onias,  gravely.  "  If  we 
were,"  he  added,  bitterly,  "  we  should  not  be 
what*  we  are  in  the  eyes  of  man.  Not  the 
Temple  only  should  be  undefiled  by  Gentile 
feet.  Not  Jerusalem  only  should  be  untrod- 
den by  Roman  legions.  Not  a  foot  of  the 
uncircumcised  should  enter  within  our  bor- 
ders, except  to  serve  our  people,  and  to  adore 
our  God." 

Laon  did  not  pursue  the  subject.  He  turned 
away  and  left  the  Jews  together.  But  after  a 
long  silence,  he  said  to  Callias  and  Siward,  as 
they  rode  together,  by  Herod's  amphithea- 
tre,— 

"  When  will  some  one  rise  against  these 
Romans,  not  for  setting  up  images  of  the 
gods,  but  for  mangling  the  divinest  images  we 
have  of  the  gods  between  the  teeth  and  claws 
of  beasts  ?  These  Jews  make  insurrections 
against  what  they  call  idolatry, — when  will 
there  be  an  insurrection  against  cruelty  ?  So 
many  altars  to  Power,  and  only  one  in  the 
world  to  Pity  !" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


NIAS  and  Esther  found  a  lodging  in 
one  of  the  garden-towers  on  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  the  City  being 
crowded  with  worshipers  who  had 
come  up  to  the  Feast  of  the  Passover.  Fairer 
to  the  eye  than  ever  before  or  since  was 
Jerusalem  then,  enthroned  on  the  edge  of  the 
hills,  guarded  by  deep  ravines.  Some  said 
that  the  architectural  magnificence  of  the  city 
exceeded  that  of  Rome. 

The  lines  of  the  flat  roofs  were  broken  by 
the  towers  of  Herod's  palaces  and  fortresses, 
and  by  the  lofty  richly  decorated  Front  of  the 
Temple  itself. 

From  the  window  of  their  garden-tower  on 
Olivet,  Esther  and  Onias  looked  down  one 
spring  evening  on  groves  of  ancient  olives, 
their  silvery  gray  interspersed  with  the  fresh 
green  of  fig-trees,  on  glossy  shrubberies  of 
myrtle,  broken  by  the  lofty  tops  of  the  sweep- 

(205) 


206        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

ing  cedars  and  by  the  feathery  crowns  of 
palms. 

The  footpath  and  the  high  road  to  Bethany 
wound  along  among  the  gardens  into  the  hol- 
low of  the  Kedron,  dark  then  with  the  purple 
shadows  of  evening.  From  these  shadows 
rose  the  beautiful  mountain-city,  dazzling 
with  all  her  stately  new  buildings,  sacred  with 
all  her  ancient  associations  ;  as  yet  desecrated, 
and  hallowed,  by  no  Dolorous  Way. 

To  the  eyes  of  Onias  and  Esther,  all  these 
princely  castle-towers,  all  the  columned  clois- 
ters, snow-white  with  fresh  marble,  or  touch- 
ed to  a  golden  glow  by  the  sun,  all  the  gilded 
roofs,  were  merely  so  many  appendages  or 
testimonies  of  homage  to  the  Sanctuary  on 
the  edge  of  the  ravine — still  retaining,  in  spite 
of  Herod's  towering  Front  and  golden  roofs, 
the  likeness  of  the  old  Sacred  Tent  of  the 
Wilderness,  around  which  their  forefathers 
had  gathered. 

The  materials,  and  the  art  with  which  it 
was  built,  were  of  little  moment  to  the  Jewish 
pilgrims.  To  Onias  it  was  the  Sanctuary  of  his 
race.  To  Esther  it  was  the  House  of  her  God. 

As  they  looked  they  could  almost  discern 
the  white-robed  companies  of  priests  moving 
about  the  cloistered  courts,  in  preparation  for 
the  Feast. 

But  Esther  said   sorrowfully,  "  My  father 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         207 

used  to  say  this  Temple,  with  its  golden  roofs 
and  precious  marbles,  was  poor  and  bare  in- 
deed, compared,  not  with  the  Temple  of  Sol- 
omon, but  with  the  ancient  Tent  in  the  Wil- 
derness, covered  with  badger  skins.  For  on 
that  the  Cloud  of  Glory  rested,  and  in  its 
Holy  of  Holies  abode  the  Ark,  the  cherubims 
shadowing  the  mercy-seat.  When  will  the 
Shechinah  return !" 

"  It  is  ours  to  slay  the  sacrifice  and  purify 
the  sacred  vessels,"  Onias  replied.  "God 
only  can  fill  the  vessels,  or  send  down  the 
Cloud." 

"  But  oh,  what  sacrifices,  Onias  !"  she  said. 
"  Old  words,  which  my  father  used  to  read, 
keep  ringing  through  my  heart.  '  To  what 
purpose  is  the  multitude  of  your  sacrifices  ?' 
'  Bring  no  more  vain  oblations ;  incense  is  an 
abomination  unto  Me.'  '  Your  appointed 
feasts  My  soul  hateth  :  I  am  weary  to  bear 
them.'  Weary  to  bear  them,  Onias,  so  many 
ages  ago  !  What  then  now  ?  Are  we  indeed 
bringing  Him  what  He  asks  for,  what  he  cares 
to  have  ?  The  cry  of  violence  and  strife  is  in 
the  City.  Marble  palaces,  gilded  roofs,  feast- 
ing and  splendor ; — and  amidst  it  all  the  cry 
of  the  poor  and  the  wronged  !  There  is  an 
oppression  on  my  heart.  It  seems  as  if  the 
prayers  reached  no  further  than  the  golden 
roofs ;  but  the  cries  to  the  Throne  in  heaven." 


208        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  How  can  I  help  it  ?"  Onias  replied  impa- 
tiently ;  "  I  at  least  have  spared  no  cost.  I 
have  given  alms  enough  into  the  Temple 
treasury  to  provide  a  Passover  Feast  for  a 
score  of  poor  families.  I  would  have  given 
more,  but  that  I  feared  to  make  people  sus- 
pect that  poor  old  Onias  was  after  all  richer 
than  he  seemed.  We  have  a  journey  to  make 
after  the  Feast;  and  not  all  that  come  up 
to  the  Passover  come  to  sacrifice  or  to 
pray." 

For  the  next  week  the  City  was  full  of  feast- 
ing. It  was  the  great  national  festival.  Of 
old  their  ancestors  had  partaken  of  the  lamb 
and  the  bitter  herbs,  standing,  with  girded 
loins,  like  slaves  not  yet  liberated.  Now  the 
poorest  Jew  reclined  at  the  board  "  like  a 
king  and  a  freeman."  The  streets  were  full 
of  pilgrims,  chiefly  men.  It  was  a  festival 
which  the  Romans  watched  with  anxiety,  and 
with  which  they  did  not  attempt  to  interfere. 
We  know  that  they  even  professed  to  honor 
it,  by  pardoning  a  criminal  "  whomsoever  the 
people  would."  Among  all  the  festive  crowds 
not  a  Roman  soldier  was  to  be  found. 

Old  Laon  watched  the  motley  company 
which  thronged  the  narrow  streets  and  clus- 
tered in  the  porticoes  and  open  courts  with 
curious  interest.  For  the  time  all  intercourse 
had  been  suspended  between  him  and  the 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         209 

German  captives  and  their  new  Jewish  ac- 
quaintances. 

Onias  dreaded  ceremonial  pollution,  with 
its  attendant  inconveniences  and  expenses ; 
and  Esther  was  absorbed  in  the  devotions  and 
the  sacred  memories  of  the  Festival,  and  in 
making  it  as  much  as  she  could  a  festival  to 
some  of  the  poor  families  who  had  come  up 
from  the  country  districts,  from  the  forests  of 
Galilee  and  the  hill-country  of  the  South. 

Morning  after  morning,  Laon  used  to  walk 
up  and  down  the  Royal  Porch  of  the  Temple, 
among  the  three  magnificent  aisles  of  Corin- 
thian columns,  the  stately  cloister  large  and 
lofty  as  our  noblest  cathedrals. 

"  It  might  be  a  Temple!"  he  said.  "And 
it  is  only  a  Porch  for  us  who  dare  not  enter 
the  Temple." 

For  beyond  this  magnificent  entrance  no 
heathen  feet  might  venture.  Just  within  it 
rose  the  richly  ornamented  stone  barrier,  with 
its  inscription  warning  off  profane  feet.  Onias 
and  Esther  passed  them  often  at  a  distance, 
and  entered  from  the  shadows  into  the  light 
of  the  sacred  courts — he  into  the  Court  of  the 
Men,  she  into  the  Court  of  the  Women,  sep- 
arated by  the  long  flights  of  marble  steps  and 
the  Beautiful  Gate  from  the  inner  courts. 

"  A  strange  people,"  Laon  said  to  Siward 
and  Callias.  "  See  how  they  despise  us,  and 


2io        VICTORY  OF  TEE  VANQUISHED. 

see  how  these  Romans  cringe  to  them.  Not 
a  temple  in  the  world  but  would  be  honored 
by  the  homage  of  one  of  Csesar's  legates.  In 
this  Temple  the  presence  of  Caesar  himself 
would  be  regarded  as  an  intolerable  desecra- 
tion. The  poorest  of  these  beggarly  Jews 
may  enter,  and  the  Emperor  must  keep  at  a 
lowly  distance  outside.  And  the  Romans 
submit." 

"  Yet  they  scarcely  seem  one  people,"  Cal- 
tias  said.  "  See  how  different  their  costume 
is,  and  even  their  speech  and  their  complex- 
ions. Polished  Alexandrians,  talking  Greek 
as  fluently  as  any  Athenian — strangers,  burn- 
ed nearly  black,  from  Africa — Oriental  mer- 
chants from  Babylon  or  Persia;  and  among 
them  these  half-starved  wild  men  in  white 
clothing,  ascetics  from  their  villages  by  the 
Dead  Sea — these  Pharisees  with  their  sancti- 
monious looks,  dreading  to  touch  us  with  the 
hem  of  their  garments — these  poor  peasants, 
ill-clad,  with  hands  hard  with  toil — fishermen 
from  Galilee — husbandmen  from  the  South — 
shepherds  from  the  Eastern  hills.  All  these 
sweep  past  us  through  the  gate  we  dare  not 
enter,  into  their  own  Sanctuary.  Surely  this 
is  a  score  of  nations,  not  one  nation.  What 
have  they  in  common  ?" 

"  They  have  this  in  common,"  said  Laon, 
"  that  scattered  as  they  are  voluntarily  through 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         2II 

every  city  in  the  world  where  there  is  trade 
to  be  done,  every  one  of  them  is  bound  to 
every  other  by  a  tie  such  as  binds  together 
no  nation  on  earth,  not  even  some  remote 
mountain  tribe  which  has  never  seen  an  in- 
vader. Elastic  to  stretch  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  it  binds  every  one  of  them  to  this  City, 
this  Sanctuary,  and  to  each  other." 

"  What  is  the  tie?"  asked  Callias. 

"  A  common  contempt  of  other  races ;  a 
common  enthusiasm  for  their  own  ;  a  com- 
mon history  contained  in  a  Book  which  they 
look  upon  as  Divine  ;  a  common  Hope,  which 
they  also  look  upon  as  Divine ;  common  fes- 
tivals, which  commemorate  national  deliver- 
ances, drawing  them  to  the  Common  Temple. 
Their  lawgiver  must  have  been  a  great  pa- 
triot and  statesman,  this  Moses  in  whom  they 
trust.  I  always  thought  them  a  wonderful 
and  inexplicable  people.  But  now,  first, 
at  Jerusalem,  I  begin  to  understand  the 
Jews." 

Yet  Siward,  walking  in  silence  beside  Laon 
and  Callias,  had  gained  through  the  faith  of 
Esther,  a  glimpse  into  the  true  nature  of  the 
bond  which  united  the  Jewish  nation,  deeper 
than  Laon's. 

He  had  seen  afar  off  a  dim  vision  of  the 
Fountain  of  Living  Waters,  whence  flowed 
the  Book  with  its  History,  the  Hope  with  its 


212 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 


inspiration,   the   intense,   unconquerable    Pa- 
triotism. 

For  he  had  found  a  Jewish  heart  which  be- 
lieved in  the  Living  God. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


HE  Passover  Festival  was  over.  The 
tens  of  thousands  bf  pilgrims  who 
had  crowded  within  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem,  or  found  a  resting-place, 
like  Onias  and  Esther,  in  the  garden-lodges 
or  vineyard-towers  on  the  hills  around,  were 
slowly  dispersing,  streaming  out  of  every  gate, 
and  along  every  road  and  footpath,  to  their 
homes  in  distant  lands  or  among  the  cities  and 
villages  of  Judasa  and  Galilee. 

Onias  lingered  later  than  the  majority  of  the 
pilgrims  in  Jerusalem,  until  Laon  became  ea- 
ger to  depart,  and  Callias,  especially,  grew 
impatient  to  escape  from  a  city  in  which  a 
statue  was  regarded  as  a  profanation. 

Once  more,  at  last,  the  little  company  was 
gathered.  Laon  and  Onias,  and  the  women, 
Siguna  and  Esther,  with  little  Hilda,  on  asses, 
Siward  and  Callias  on  foot. 

Across   the   brook   Kedron,  then   full,  and 


214        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

murmuring  over  its  stony  bed — up  the  steep 
path  to  Bethany,  bordered  with  spring  flow- 
ers, and  shaded  with  leafy  fig-trees — among 
the  olive-groves,  through  fragrant  thickets  of 
flowering  myrtle,  while  from  time  to  time 
across  the  way  fell  the  delicate  feathered 
shadow  of  a  cluster  of  palms. 

Pathetic  memories  of  David  the  king,  with 
covered  head,  fleeing  from  Absalom,  were  in 
Esther's  heart. 

"  O  my  son  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  Ab- 
salom !  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Ab- 
salom, my  son,  my  son  !  " 

It  was  no  mere  echo  which  those  words 
awakened  in  her  heart.  Her  whole  being 
vibrated  in  response.  She  knew  well  how 
much  they  meant ;  and  how  little ;  how  "  to 
die,"  is  reversed  in  meaning  when  the  dearest 
have  died ;  how  sweet  it  would  have  been  to 
have  followed  her  babes  whithersoever  they 
had  gone;  to  have  been  laid,  like  them,  in 
the  Catacombs  under  the  hills  of  Rome,  "  in 
peace ; "  like  them,  to  have  taken  the  wings 
of  a  dove  and  flown  away,  and  remained  in 
the  wilderness,  and  been  at  rest.  For,  wilder- 
ness as  the  world  beyond  still  was  to  her,  a 
dark  land  and  unknown,  she  knew,  notwith- 
standing, that  all  worlds  were  full  of  God  ; 
and  what  her  beloved  had  gone  to,  dark  or 
bright,  she  longed  to  share. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         215 

To  Onias  nearer  memories  were  more  pres- 
ent. The  familiar  stories  of  his  boyhood  had 
been  of  the  martyrdoms  of  his  people  by.  An- 
tiochus ;  of  the  heroic  mother  who  exhorted 
her  sons  to  be  tortured,  and  saw  them  suffer, 
refusing-  to  accept  deliverance  at  the  price  of 
apostasy ;  of  the  enthusiastic  patriotism  re- 
awakened in  the  wars  of  the  Maccabean  bro- 
thers. Or,  nearer  still,  two  tragedies  pressed 
on  his  memory,  which  had  been  stamped  on 
his  boyish  imagination  by  frequent  repetition 
until  they  were  as  vivid  to  him  as  anything 
he  had  seen. 

In  those  fair  courts  and  terraces,  now  girt 
with  Herod's  dazzling  cloisters,  which  lay 
spread  before  him  as  he  turned  back  for  a 
last  look  from  the  summit  of  Olivet,  the  priests 
of  his  people  had  calmly  continued  the  ap- 
pointed sacrifices  for  the  nation,  while  Pom- 
pey's  engines  were  battering  down  the  tow- 
ers. Down  the  precipitous  sides  of  that  ra- 
vine they  had  been  hurled  when  unable  fur- 
ther to  defend  the  Temple  which  was  at  once 
the  citadel  of  the  people  and  their  sanctuary. 

He  remembered  how  in  his  youth  his  heart 
had  thrilled  with  the  sense  that  he  would  have 
done  and  suffered  the  same. 

But  now  another  scene  came  back  to  him 
with  even  greater  vividness. 

In  that  city,  during  the  ceaseless  civil  wars 


2i6        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

which  had  followed  the  division  of  Alexander's 
empire,  one  old  man  named  Onias  had  lived  a 
life  so  high  and  humble,  and  so  apart  from 
strife,  that  his  prayers  were  believed  to  have 
power  like  Elijah's,  and  those  who  had  no 
ambition  for  his  holiness  coveted  his  interces- 
sions. 

One  of  the  contending  factions — both  Jew- 
ish— dragged  him  from  his  home  to  pray 
against  the  other. 

But  the  old  man  had  not  learned  to  turn 
prayers  into  curses.  Quietly  he  knelt  down 
among  the  excited  mob  and  prayed  aloud: 
"  O  God,  King  of  the  universe,  since  on  one 
side  are  Thy  people,  and  on  the  other  Thy 
priests,  I  beseech  Thee  hear  not  the  prayers 
of  either  to  the  injury  of  the  other." 

The  cries  of  the  enraged  partizans  drowned 
his  voice  ;  the  stones  fell  thick  around  the 
gray  head ;  the  feeble  life  was  easily  bruised 
out  of  the  aged  frame,  and  he  fell,  one  of  the 
few  martyrs  the  world  has  seen  to  mercy. 

Among  the  dark  memories  of  massacre  and 
murder  which  haunted  those  valleys  and  hills, 
of  eight  hundred  crucified  at  once  outside 
those  walls,  of  assassination  and  fratricidal 
slaughter,  the  memory  of  that  old  man  dying, 
among  the  stones,  for  peace,  rose  before  the 
Pharisee,  and  for  a  moment  pierced  a  way 
for  the  daylight  through  the  anxious  cares 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        2I/ 

which  were  in  a  gradual  manner  walling  in 
his  soul. 

"  If  our  sons  had  lived,"  he  said  to  Esther, 
"  I  would  have  yielded  them  willingly  to  such 
a  death  as  that  of  this  Onias." 

Dusk  began  to  fall  when  they  had  crossed 
the  ridge,  ere  they  reached  the  village  of 
Bethany,  in  the  valley  below  among  the 
palms  and  olives. 

Laon  wished  to  remain  for  the  night  in  the 
shelter  of  the  village.  But  Onias  refused.  The 
next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  he  had  deter- 
mined to  reach  the  inn  among  the  hills,  half- 
way on  the  road  to  Jericho,  so  as  to  bring  the 
next  day's  traveling  within  the  legal  limit  of 
the  Sabbath-day's  journey. 

Both  the  old  men  were  immovable.  Onias 
would  have  yielded  anything  but  a  ritual  ob- 
servance for  the  sake  of  the  protection  of  com- 
panions. And  Laon  would  have  yielded  to 
anything  but  what  he  considered  a  Jewish  su- 
perstition. So  the  Jew  and  the  Jewess  jour- 
neyed on  alone,  whilst  Laon  and  the  Germans 
camped  by  the  village  fountain  for  the  night. 

They  had  not  been  long  out  of  sight,  when 
on  the  silence  of  the  evening  broke  faint  dis- 
tant cries  for  help.  Siward  was  the  first  to 
hear  them,  and  with  Callias,  and  one  or  two 
villagers,  he  pressed  on  along  the  wild  and 
lonely  road. 
10 


21 8        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

It  was  some  time  before  they  reached  the 
place  whence  came  the  cries.  The  reverbera- 
tion of  the  rocky  steep  had  carried  the  sound 
far. 

Onias  and  Esther  had  indeed  fallen  among 
thieves  on  the  wild  mountain  road  to  Jericho, 
with  its  easy  retreat  to  the  desert ; — that  road 
which  thieves  have  haunted  persistently  for 
thousands  of  years ; — and  when  Siward  came 
to  the  spot,  the  fierce  war-cry  of  the  followers 
of  Judas  of  Galilee,  "  We  have  no  Master  or 
Lord  but  God,"  echoed  among-  the  rocks  from 
a  sentinel  who  was  posted  in  advance  to  warn 
the  rest. 

On  the  approach  of  the  rescue,  shouting 
and  clashing  their  arms,  the  robbers  sprang 
on  their  horses  and  fled,  leaving  their  victims 
free.  But  Siward  found  old  Onias  too  be- 
wildered and  distressed  to  be  grateful  to  his 
deliverers.  At  the  first  moment  he  did  not 
recognize  them,  but  cried  out  the  more,  deem- 
ing them  to  be  a  fresh  band  of  plunderers. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  give,"  he  said  in  Syriac, 
wringing  his  hands.  "They  have  taken  all. 
Do  with  me  what  you  will.  They  have  taken 
the  savings  of  my  life.  Take  life  too  if  you 
will." 

"  I  had  little  to  lose,  sirs,"  he  resumed,  re- 
covering himself  as  he  recognized  his  friends 
— "  little  to  lose  ;  but  it  was  my  all." 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        2ig 

But  from  a  rock  above  came  a  shout  of  de- 
rision. 

"  This  will  teach  thee  not  to  lean  on  an  arm 
of  Gentile  flesh,  brother !  Thanks  for  thy 
contribution  to  our  sacred  cause.  Thy  coat 
weighs  heavy,  and  thou  wilt  travel  light  with- 
out it.  Gold  thrown  into  the  treasury  is  never 
lost.  Sow  on,  old  man ;  sow  again,  that  the 
faithful  may  reap." 

Callias  listened,  not  without  a  little  mali- 
cious amusement. 

Siward  was  occupied  in  restoring  Esther  to 
consciousness.  She  had  fallen  and  been  stun- 
ned. But  Onias  sat  wringing  his  hands,  too 
dejected  to  care  for  anything. 

"  Esther,  my  beloved,"  were  his  first  words 
to  her  when  she  recovered,  "  would  to  Heaven 
we  had  both  died !  The  gold  is  gone,  all, 
not  a  piece  left.  Not  one  piece !  And  I  had 
thought  one  day  to  array  thee  like  Esther  the 
queen,  and  to  serve  the  nation  therewith." 

She  smiled  tenderly  at  the  delusion.  But 
the  loss  seemed  to  have  added  years  to  his 
age.  And  she  returned  to  the  village  sup- 
porting on  her  arm  a  feeble,  tottering  old 
man. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it !  Who  would 
have  thought  it !"  he  kept  murmuring  to  him- 
self. "  The  Lord  had  indeed  forsaken  His 
people.  Was  I  not  incurring  the  danger  in 


220         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

His  service?  Is  Israel  nothing  to  Him — or 
His  own  Sabbaths?  Our  God  has  forsaken 
us,  Esther.  What  have  we  done  ?  Persecute 
and  take  them,  for  God  hath  forsaken  them." 

"  It  is  not  God  who  hath  forsaken  us,"  she 
said,  "it  is  only  the  gold." 

But  he  shook  his  head,  and  was  not  to  be 
comforted. 

Yet  in  her  own  heart  his  words  found  a 
deeper  echo  than  she  would  let  him  see. 

Thenceforth  throughout  the  journey  Siguna 
observed  that*  the  positions  of  Onias  and  Es- 
ther seemed  reversed.  Esther  rose  from  her 
dejection  to  comfort  him.  Feeble  and  sad  as 
she  was,  she  had  become  the  protector,  watch- 
ing and  cherishing  him  with  a  pitiful  mother- 
ly tenderness.  But  to  Siguna,  one  evening, 
the  anguish  which  lay  at  the  root  of  all  this 
tenderness  came  out. 

"Oh,  German  mother!"  she  said,  "he  was 
noble  once,  kind  and  generous,  when  the  chil- 
dren were  with  us.  It  is  I  who  have  brought 
this  change  and  curse  on  him.  For  my  sins, 
God  took  the  babes.  For  their  sakes,  first  the 
gold  grew  precious  to  him  ;  they,  yet  a  thou- 
sandfold more  precious.  But  since  they  died 
his  heart  has  twined  around  the  gold.  He 
is  no  base  miser,"  she  added  passionately ; 
"  never  believe  it.  He  loves  the  gold  for  the 
power  he  sees  in  it  to  help.  He  sees  it  glori- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        22I 

fied  with  all  the  love  and  hopes  which  once 
gathered  round  it.  Money  is  not  only  the 
idol  of  the  mean.  It  is  the  idol  of  the  hope- 
less. And  sometimes  I  think  if  our  people 
lost  the  great  Hope,  it  might  become  the  idol 
of  our  race." 

Siward  was  listening.  She  turned  to  him, 
and  said, — 

"  Worship  any  idol  but  that.  Other  idols 
can  be  broken.  This  never.  Its  destruction 
only  makes  it  dearer.  For  it  is  always  in  the 
distance  before  us ;  a  symbol  o/  power,  power 
to  do  what  we  will  for  ourselves  and  others. 
When  we  reach  this  point,  the  worshipers 
say,  or  that — or  that !  But  the  point  at  which 
to  use  it  is  never  reached.  We  lie  down  in 
the  dust,  and  the  hand  which  meant  to  have 
used  the  gold  is  as  powerless  as  the  gold  it 
meant  to  use.  Yet  the  delusion  dies  not. 
Dust  to  us,  it  is  still  a  symbol  of  irresistible 
power  to  those  who  take  it  from  our  dead 
hands.  Alas  !  this  curse  and  this  delusion  are 
on  him.  But  my  sins  brought  it  on  him  ; 
mine !" 

Siward  looked  into  the  pure  patient  face, 
and  exclaimed  involuntarily, — 

"  Thy  sins !     What  could  they  have  been  ?" 

"  I  coveted  gold  first  for  the  babes,"  she 
said ;  "  and  then  the  babes  died,  and  he  still 
coveted  the  gold  for  itself." 


222         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

11  Underneath  the  Jewish  Temple  also, 
then,"  thought  Siward,  "  as  deep  in  the  heart 
of  the  rock  beneath  the  temples  of  Athens, 
yawns  the  cave  of  the  Eumenides,  of  the 
avenging  goddesses  who  cannot  be  appeased 
or  evaded.  Everywhere  these  are  dreaded ; 
— are  these  then  the  strongest?" 

But  he  said, — 

"  Your  God  also,  then,  does  not  forgive  !" 

She  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  a  faint 
light  broke  over  her  countenance. 

"  It  is  written,  '  There  is  forgiveness  with 
Thee !'  "  she  said.  "  It  is  possible  that  He 
may  be  punishing,  and  yet  forgiving  ;,  punish- 
ing, that  He  may  be  able  to  forgive.  In  this 
hope  I  live." 

By  degrees  Onias  rallied,  and  began  to  fol- 
low the  advice  of  the  robber,  "  Sow  on,  sow 
on  again."  His  mind  had  run  so  long  in  the 
grooves  of  commercial  calculation,  that  when 
left  to  itself  it  seemed  to  calculate  mechanic- 
ally. Before  they  had  left  Jericho,  with  its 
rose  and  balsam  gardens,  shaded  on  its  burn- 
ing plain  by  the  groves  of  young  palm-trees 
planted  by  Archelaus,  the  son  of  Herod  the 
Great,  he  had  recommenced  negotiations  with 
Laon ;  and  when  they  reached  the  shores  of 
the  Lake  of  Galilee  he  had  contrived  a  scheme 
for  the  sale  of  arms,  which  would,  he  trusted, 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         223 

in  no  distant  future  restore  the  losses  of  the 
past. 

The  villages  which  bordered  the  fertile 
shores  of  the  inland  sea  seemed  to  him  store- 
houses of  future  profit. 

"  These  Galileans  are  always  turbulent,"  he 
said  to  Esther  one  evening,  as  they  walked 
along-  the  shingly  shore ;  "  before  long  some 
new  Judas  of  Gamala  is  sure  to  arise.  The 
sight  of  this  new  Tiberias  of  the  Idumsean, 
desecrated  with  Gentile  images  and  a  Roman 
name,  its  golden  roofs  and  white  porticoes 
shining  over  the  waters, — is  it  not  enough  to 
excite  them  ?  Arms  are  sure  to  be  welcome  ; 
and  prohibited  wares  can  only  be  safely  pur- 
chased of  a  fellow-countryman,  himself  a  Jew- 
ish patriot.  These  hardy  fishermen,  more- 
over, not  a  few  of  them  are  small  capitalists. 
They  possess  more  than  one  boat.  And  the 
lake  is  a  storehouse  of  wealth  inexhaustible. 
Fish  without  end ;  corn-fields  which  yield 
crop  after  crop ;  vineyards  and  olive-groves 
on  every  hill,  date-palms  on  the  plain ;  orch- 
ards of  citrons  and  pomegranates  bathed  by 
the-  lake  ; — a  market  at  hand  in  this  new  city, 
profane  as  it  is.  This  land  is  as  the  Garden 
of  Eden,  Esther.  Let  us  never  despond. 
Some  day,  who  can  say  what  Deliverer  may 
arise  for  this  Paradise  ?  Judas  of  Gamala  all 
but  succeeded.  His  followers  survive.  The 


224         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Maccabees  came  from  the  north.  No  one 
knew  of  them  till  they  arose.  Who  knows 
what  may  be  preparing  among  these  hills 
even  now.  This  is  just  the  country  for  a 
man  to  arise  from.  A  Paradise  to  save.  The 
Edomite  to  dispossess,  the  traitor  flaunting 
his  new  Gentile  city  in  the  very  face  of  Israel. 
Wild  solitary  wildernesses  at  hand  across  the 
water,  such  as  Elijah  was  trained  in.  Who 
knows  how  near  the  deliverance  may  be  !  Let 
us  do  our  part.  Let  us  purchase  and  sell 
them  the  best  arms  these  Gentiles  can  make, 
and  leave  the  issue  to  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth." 

That  evening  they  watched  the  three  stars 
unveil  themselves  from  the  daylight,  marking 
that  the  Sabbath  had  begun. 

They  rested  that  Sabbath-day  in  one  of  the 
villages  on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  Onias  hav- 
ing refused  to  lodge  within  the  "  Gentile  and 
polluted  city  of  Tiberias." 

They  entered  a  synagogue  with  a  Corin- 
thian portico,  built,  it  was  said,  by  a  Roman 
soldier,  a  proselyte. 

Esther  sat  among  the  women.  Onias  was 
offered  the  scroll  of  the  law,  and  asked  to  read. 

Eagerly  she  leant  forward  and  listened,  as 
the  words  came, — 

"  Surely  He  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  car- 
ried our  sorrows." 

Like  the  words  of  a  song  in  a  foreign  Ian- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         22$ 

guage,  almost  sweeter  for  being  half  under- 
stood, the  wonderful  portrait  penetrated  her 
heart. 

A  Sufferer  so  beloved  of  God,  what  a  con- 
secration for  all  suffering ! 

And  further  on,  the  tender  words  of  the 
prophet  stole  in  like  balm. 

"  The  Lord  has  called  thee  as  a  woman  for- 
saken and  grieved  in  spirit. 

"  For  a  small  moment  have  I  forsaken  thee, 
but  with  great  mercies  will  I  gather  thee. 

"  O  thou  afflicted,  tossed  with  tempest,  and 
not  comforted,  behold  I  will  lay  thy  stones 
with  fair  colors,  and  lay  thy  foundations  with 
sapphires." 

She  heard  no  more. 

Her  heart  seemed  to  rise  beyond  its  own 
sorrows  and  hopelessness  to  the  sorrow  and 
undying  Hope  of  her  people. 

"  It  must  come !"  she  sang  in  her  heart. 
"  He  must  come ;  the  Anointed,  the  King  ! 
Who  knows  how  near  His  footsteps  may  be  ? 
Did  Israel  know  Saul  till  he  was  anointed? 
Did  his  brethren  known  David  even  after  he 
was  anointed  ?  Who  knows  but,  if  our  ears 
were  opened,  we  might  hear  those  footsteps 
even  now — even  here  ?'' 

About  a  day's  journey  from  them,  among 
the  western  hills,  lay  the  village  of  Nazareth. 
10* 


226        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

But  who  thought  of  turning  aside  to  see  an 
obscure  mountain  village,  not  of  the  best  rep- 
utation ? 

No  highway  of  commerce  led  through  it. 
No  patriotic  memories  gathered  round  it. 

Even  if  they  had  passed  through  its  upland 
streets,  they  might  have  seen  nothing  remark- 
able in  the  carpenter's  workshop  there. 

That  night  Esther  could  not  sleep.  A  sud- 
den storm  burst  on  the  lake  through  the  ra- 
vines of  the  mountains.  The  white  surge 
gleamed  through  the  night  as  the  waves 
broke  on  the  shingly  beaches  or  dashed  on 
the  cliffs.  She  sat  crouching  on  the  flat  house- 
top under  the  shelter  of  a  little  booth  which 
had  been  erected  for  them,  and  looked  out  on 
the  storm,  until  the  day  began  to  break ;  and 
then  leaning  over  the  low  parapet,  she  watch- 
ed one  solitary  fishing-boat  struggling  with 
the  storm ;  now  all  but  hidden  under  the 
waves,  then  emerging,  tossed  on  the  white 
crests,  until  at  last  it  reached  the  shore,  dash- 
ed high  on  a  sandy  creek,  and  left  there  half 
a  wreck,  sails  torn,  masts  broken,  but  safe. 

Slowly  the  wind  lulled, -the  clouds  vanish- 
ed, and  the  sun  rose  behind  the  long  ridge  of 
the  eastern  table-land  ;  the  sky  was  "  set  with 
fair  colors,"  and  the  sea  shone  like  a  translu- 
cent sapphire. 


VICTORY  OF  2 HE  VANQUISHED.         22? 

The  tangle  of  images,  clustered  and  inter- 
twined like  the  rich  vegetation  below  her  on 
the  plain  of  Gennesaret,  in  the  prophecies  she 
had  heard  yesterday  in  the  synagogue,  came 
back  to  her  mind,  unfolded  by  the  scene  be- 
fore her. 

The  Ship  tossed  in  the  tempests  of  the 
stormy  world,  dissolving  into  the  city  set 
with  sapphires  and  fair  colors ;  when  and 
where  would  the  transformation  be  ?  Were 
the  tempests  for  earth,  and  the  fair  colors  all 
for  heaven?  Or  was  the  dawn  even  now 
ready  to  break  on  the  earth  ? 

So  she  mused  watching  by  the  sea  of  Gali- 
lee. 

And  that  same  night,  in  the  Temple  by 
the  Roman  Forum,  Clcelia  the  Vestal  was 
keeping  the  sacred  fire  for  her  people,  her 
heart  also  faintly  stirred  by  the  tremulous 
murmurs  of  the  morning  of  which  that  age 
was  full. 

For  the  burden  of  the  wickedness  of  the 
City  on  the  Seven  Hills  weighed  more  and 
more  heavily  on  her  as  she  understood  it 
more. 

And  around  the  few  who  watched  and 
prayed  lay  the  great  multitudes  of  the  slum- 


228        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

bering,  revelling,  suffering-  world,  on  whom 
no  hope  had  yet  dawned. 

The  Hope  of  the  few  who  looked  upward, 
the  hopelessness  of  the  many  whom  no  one 
had  taught  to  look  upward,  the  universal 
night  of  corruption,  the  uncertain  broken 
murmurs  of  aspiration  from  earnest  hearts 
below,  the  limited  but  surely  growing  light 
of  the  earlier  Revelation  from  above,  all  were 
betokening  the  breaking  of  the  Day. 

To  us  who  have  seen  it  break  ! 

But  not  yet  to  those  who  were  still  in  the 
twilight. 

The  morning  and  the  evening  twilight  are 
always  hard  to  be  distinguished,  by  creatures 
of  an  hour,  whose  life  is  not  long  enough  to 
see  it  either  begin  or  end. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

NTIOCH,  the  third  City  in  the  World, 
the  beautiful  city,  the  joyous  city, 
was  full  of  the  stir  of  festivity  from 
end  to  end.  Cassar  Germanicus  had 
been  laid  low  by  dangerous  sickness.  He  was 
believed  to  have  recovered,  and  Antioch,  the 
metropolis  of  the  East,  and  the  residence  of 
the  Roman  Legate,  was  pouring  out  her  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  to  sacrifice  at  the  altars  on 
the  hill-sides  for  the  health  of  the  young  Cassar. 
In  that  delicious  climate,  living  in  the  open 
air,  under  the  shadow  of  the  countless  porti- 
coes, or  in  the  race-course  and  theatres,  the 
idle  crowds  which  thronged  the  long,  broad 
streets  at  all  times,  had  only  to  be  stirred  by 
a  common  impulse  in  one  direction,  and  the 
beautiful  city  became  at  once  the  stage  of  a 
brilliant  and  picturesque  procession. 

Graceful  Greeks,  lithe  Syrians,  stately  Per- 
sians, in  all  the  rich  coloring  of  Oriental  cos- 
tume, glanced  in  and  out  of  the  shadow 

(229) 


230        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

of  the  long  colonnades.  Among  them  priests 
with  victims,  white  oxen  garlanded,  groups 
of  dancers  led  by  cymbals,  trumpets,  and 
flutes,  choruses  of  triumphal  or  comic  sing- 
ers, tro'oped  joyously  along  the  long  street 
towards  Epidaphne.  Along  the  league-long 
street,  bordered  by  a  marble  colonnade  with 
three  aisles,  they  went ;  flowers  from  the 
the  luxuriant  gardens  showered  around  their 
steps,  jests  flying  on  all  sides  among  that 
quick-witted  populace  (remarkable  for  its  fac- 
ulty of  bestowing  characteristic  soubriquets) ; 
by  the  swift  Orontes  to  the  fragrant  gardens 
on  the  hills,  musical  with  streams,  and  popu- 
lous with  temples  and  statues  of  gods  and 
nymphs ;  many  of  the  mortal  men  and  wo- 
men in  the  procession,  themselves,  with  their 
white  flowing  robes  and  athletic  supple  forms 
trained  in  the  race-course  and  the  circus,  as 
beautiful  and  graceful  as  any  statue  of  their 
gods. 

A  miracle  of  beauty  the  city  was  that  sum- 
mer day,  with  the  river  girdling  it  like  a  sil- 
ver girdle,  the  white  arches  of  acqueducts 
and  bridges,  and  the  porticoes  of  palaces  and 
Basilicas,  reflected  in  the  waters,  or  shining . 
among  the  dark  foliage  ;  and  all  guarded  by 
the  walls  and  towers  which  scaled  the  steeps 
and  crowned  the  heights.  Beyond,  the  rich 
plain,  the  blue  mountains,  sources  of  cool 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         231 

streams ;  over  all  the  glorious  sin.  shine,  bring- 
ing out  every  detail  of  architecture  and  sculp- 
ture like  delicate  ivory  carving,  and  steeping 
every  color  in  a  golden  glow  ;  and  through 
all,  the  stir  of  a  multitude  united  for  the  mo- 
ment into  the  true  life  of  a  city  by  a  common 
deliverance  and  a  common  joy. 

Suddenly  the  festivities  were  checked. 
The  priests  had  reached  the  altars  at  Epi- 
daphne  with  the  victims,  and  were  commenc- 
ing the  sacrificial  rites,  when  the  lictors  of 
Piso,  the  envious  colleague  of  Germanicus, 
burst  on  them,  chased  away  the  priests  and 
the  garlanded  sacrificial  oxen  with  blows  and 
menaces,  and  dispersed  the  procession,  leav- 
ing the  astonished  people  to  discuss  in  broken 
groups  what  this  division  among  their  Roman 
rulers  might  mean  or  portend. 

The  festivities  which  had  united  the  mob 
into  a  multitude,  thus  broken,  Antioch  re- 
solved itself  again  into  its  elements:  elements 
probably  as  base  and  corrupt  as  have  ever 
been  gathered  together  in  any  one  place. 

Romans  delivered  from  the  restraints  of 
Roman  duty,  Greek  mythology  transplanted 
without  any  of  its  higher  associations,  degrad- 
ed into  a  mere  light  tissue  of  legend,  or  asso- 
ciated with  the  fierce  and  licentious  Syrian 
nature-worship,  native  to  the  place.  The  de- 
caying religions  of  all  nations  mouldering  to- 


232        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

gether  in  a  common  corruption,  a  luxurious 
soil  for  the  vices  of  all  nations  to  flourish  in. 
Art  sunk  into  a  mere  appendage  of  luxury. 
Nothing  serious,  but  a  dark  Oriental  magic, 
supposed  to  be  mighty  in  love-potions  or 
murderous  spells ;  and  the  sordid  pursuit  of 
wealth.  Riches  enough  to  purchase  anything ; 
and  nothing  too  sacred  to  be  sold.  An  aris- 
tocracy of  mere  riches,  without  patriotism  or 
faith  or  family  honor;  a  populace  such  as 
such  an  aristocracy  creates. 

Old  Laon  was  disturbed  at  having  recom- 
mended the  place  to  the  German  captives. 

"  There  is  no  quarter  of  the  city  fit  for  a 
good  woman  like  your  mother  or  a  young 
maiden  like  your  sister  to  live  in,"  he  said  to 
Siward,  "except  among  these  hateful  Jews, 
who  swarm  here,  as  everywhere  else  where 
their  honey  is  to  be  gathered.  They  are  a 
set  of  bigots  and  misers.  But  it  must  be  con- 
fessed they  have  retained  some  relics  of  fam- 
ily purity.  And  they  alone." 

A  stronger  reprobation  could  not  pass 
Laon's  lips.  "  For  myself,"  he  added,  "  I  find 
here  a  few  who  love  wisdom,  and  a  great 
many  who  can  talk  fine  rhetoric  about  philos- 
ophy. But  women  want  their  philosophy  on 
fire  with  religion  of  some  kind.  And  here 
the  fire  of  religion  and  the  fire  of  iniquity  are 
the  same." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


HE  brief  gleam  of  delusive  hope  as 
to  the  restoration  of  Germanicus 
had  faded  away ;  and  in  his  home 
near  Antioch,  among  the  gardens 
of  Epidaphne,  the  young  Cassar  lay  dying. 
The  pure  home  of  Agrippina  and  Germani- 
cus was  strangely  set ;  an  island  of  purity,  in 
that  enchanted  forest  of  license  and  revelry. 

It  was  October.  But  the  seasons  made 
little  difference  in  the  paradise  i;i  the  midst 
of  which  he  was  sojourning. 

Summer  could  not  silence  the  music  of  the 
hundred  fountains  welling  up  from  their  deep 
rocky  sources  beneath  the  hills.  Autumn 
laid  a  scarcely  perceptible  touch  on  the  glos- 
sy foliage  of  its  forests,  miles  in  depth,  of 
ilexes,  laurels,  and  bays,  or  on  the  dark  mas- 
ses of  its  cypresses  and  cedars.  The  white 
marble  Temple,  in  whose  jewelled  sanctuary 
the  statue  of  Apollo  stretched  out  arms  of 


234        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

perpetual  longing-  for  a  human  love,  was  sur- 
rounded by  depths  of  evergreen  shade,  the 
perpetually  renewed  freshness  of  grass  and 
flowers,  and  the  music  of  ceaseless  revelries. 

But  for  Germanicus  this  world  had  no  light 
or  music  any  more. 

Dark  suspicions  haunted  his  sick-bed.  The 
beautiful  temples  shining  amidst  the  dark 
foliage,  the  dances,  the  processions,  the  lux- 
urious festivities  among  the  fragrant  gardens, 
all  vanished  before  the  terrors  of  the  great 
Shadow.  The  dark  chasm  of  superstitious 
fear  which  lay  beneath  all  the  brilliant  gossa- 
mers, beneath  all  the  song  and  dance  and  fes- 
tival of  that  old  Pagan  faith,  yawned  before 
Germanicus  in  all  its  blackness. 

To  him  the  flowery  Epidaphne  was  no  par- 
adise of  joyous  worship,  but  a  sunny  portal 
to  the  world  of  shadows.  The  true  shrines 
of  Antioch  were  to  the  powers  of  the  under- 
world ;  her  true  worship  was  a  mighty  malig- 
nant magic  ;  the  white  porticoes  of  her  temples 
were  the  threshold  of  a  cave  darker  far  than 
that  of  the  Eumenides  beneath  the  rocky  hills 
of  Athens ;  for  the  powers  ruling  there  were 
no  avengers  of  wrong,  steadfast  and  stern,  but 
abettors  of  wrong,  capricious  and  unstable,  at 
the  beck  and  call  of  any  malignant  heart  which 
was  sufficiently  like  them  to  propitiate  them 
with  the  cruel  rites  they  loved. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         235 

To  Caesar  Germanicus,  as  he  watched  his 
own  life  slowly  and  inevitably  ebbing  away, 
the  world  of  life  and  of  death  must  have 
seemed  given  over  to  beings  whose  nearest 
types  were  beasts  of  prey,  ready  to  fawn  on 
any  who  would  indulge  them  with  enough 
blood  and  cruel  sport. 

That  age,  with  its  light  scepticism  on  the 
surface,  and  its  despairing  unbelief  below,  was 
an  age  of  faith  in  magic,  and  of  feverish  curi- 
osity to  obtain  glimpses  into  the  future  and 
the  unseen ;  and  the  pure  life  of  Germanicus 
was  not  free  from  these  superstitious  terrors. 
His  own  persuasion  that  poison  was  given 
him  by  Piso,  is  said  to  have  heightened  the 
relentless  violence  of  the  disease.  But  the 
poison  which  he  most  dreaded  was  not  any 
mere  drug  which  might  work  by  ordinary 
means  on  the  body.  It  was  an  age  in  which 
wives  were  brought  before  grave  tribunals  for 
administering  potions  to  their  husbands  which 
subtly  dethroned  reason.  "  And  on  the  floors 
and  walls  of  Piso's  chambers,"  it  was  related, 
"  were  found  the  exhumed  remains  of  human 
bodies,  with  charms  and  spells,  and  the  name 
of  Germanicus  engraven  on  sheets  of  lead ; 
carcases  half  burnt,  besmeared  with  gore,  and 
other  instruments  of  sorceries  wherewith  souls 
were  thought  to  be  doomed  to  the  gods  of  the 
under-world." 


236        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Germanicus  had  written  a  letter  from  his 
sick-room  solemnly  "  renouncing  the  friend- 
ship of  Piso,"  and,  it  was  said,  commanding 
him  to  depart  the  province  ;  in  spite  of  which 
Piso  was  hovering  near,  like  a  bird  of  prey, 
watching  the  dying  agonies  of  his  victim. 

But  the  most  earnest  thoughts  of  Germani- 
cus were  for  his  wife  and  her  six  children. 

The  world  above,  on  which  his  eyes  were 
closing,  was,  he  knew  too  well,  the  empire  ot 
Tiberius  Cassar,  ever  envious  and  suspicious 
of  him,  whose  chief  ministers  were  informers, 
living  on  the  blood  of  those  whom  they  be- 
trayed. 

What  reason  was  there  to  hope  that  the  un- 
seen world  below,  to  which  he  was  going, 
would  be  more  justly  and  evenly  ruled  than 
the  seen?  It  seemed  to  be  the  empire  of 
Powers  envious  and  capricious,  whose  favor- 
ite rites  were  magic  and  murder.  The  Powers 
who  suffered  Tiberius  to  reign,  and  Piso  and 
Plancina  to  prosper  on  earth,  would  scarcely 
be  more  tolerable  in  their  own  immediate  do- 
minions. Soon  he  would  be  wandering  aim- 
lessly among  the  dark  gods  of  that  lower 
world.  Of  that  it  was  useless  to  think.  No 
wisdom  or  goodness  availed  there,  or,  at  all 
events,  no  rules  which  human  creatures  could 
comprehend  as  wise  and  good. 

But  Agrippina  and  their  children  would  be" 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         237 

still  on  earth.  There,  even  under  the  domin- 
ion of  Tiberius,  justice  might  at  intervals 
make  her  voice  heard ;  or,  at  the  worst,  pru- 
dence and  patience  might  be  of  some  avail. 

To  the  few  friends  who  were  gathered 
around  him  he  committed,  as  his  dying  in- 
junction, the  sacred  duty  of  avenging  his 
death. 

And  touching  the  hand  of  the  dying  prince, 
they  swore  they  would  forego  their  lives 
sooner  than  their  revenge. 

For  Agrippina  he  had  other  counsels.  The 
lofty  courage,  the  imperial  stateliness,  the 
severe  purity  of  life,  the  chaste  fervour  of 
affection,  which  had  become  her  as  the  wife 
of  the  Conqueror,  the  mother  of  Caesars,  the 
grand-daughter  of  Augustus,  would  avail  her 
nothing  now.  He  conjured  her,  "  by  her 
remembrance  of  him,  by  the  children  who  be- 
longed to  them  both,  to  lay  aside  her  indig- 
nant passion,  and  bow  her  spirit  to  fortune, 
now  enraged  against  him  ;  and  on  her  return 
to  Rome,  not  to  irritate  those  who  were 
stronger  than  herself,  by  striving  for  the  mas- 
tery." 

"  So  much  openly.  And  more  in  secret." 
It  was  believed  that  above  all  other  enemies 
he  warned  her  to  dread  Tiberius,  under 
whose  suspicious  eyes  henceforth  she  and  her 
children  would  have  to  live,  with  no  mediator 


238  VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

between ;  with  no  Refuge,  that  Germanicus 
knew,  above. 

And  soon  afterwards — the  last  effort  of  his 
expiring  strength  spent  in  caring  for  her  and 
his  children — he  died. 

With  Tiberius  Caesar  reigning  on  earth, 
where  he  was  leaving  all  he  loved,  and  the 
Powers  Piso  had  propitiated  by  magic  reign- 
ing in  that  dark  lower  world  he  saw  before 
him,  it  could  have  been  no  easy  thing  for  Ger- 
manicus to  die. 

As  hard  almost  for  him  to  die,  as  for  Agrip- 
pina  to  live ! 

Once  more  the  people  of  Antioch  were  gath- 
ered together  for  a  solemn  rite. 

It  was  night. 

The  princely  form  of  the  young  Cassar  was 

'borne,  on  the  imperial  couch  of  ivory  draped 

with  purple,  from  the  gardens  of  Epidaphne, 

through  the  streets  to  the  Forum  of  Antioch. 

There,  on  the  square  pile  of  wood,  as  on  an 
altar,  the  funeral  couch  was  laid. 

The  pyre  was  lit,  as  usual,  by  the  nearest  in 
blood,  with  face  averted ;  the  perfumes  were 
sprinkled ;  the  flames  leapt  up  around  the 
dead  prince,  and  lit  up  with  their  capricious 
flickering  glow  the  faces  of  the  multitude,  for 
the  moment  stricken  into  silence.  In  a  few 
minutes  no  visible  sign  of  Germanicus  was 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         239 

left,  save  a  few  ashes  mingled  with  perfumes 
and  moistened  with  a  libation  of  wine. 

There  was  little  pomp  in  the  ceremony. 
The  images  of  his  long  line  of  ancestry  were 
far  away  in  Rome  ;  and  there  was  no  funeral 
procession,  no  solemn  marching  of  the  troops 
around  the  pyre,  no  emancipation  of  slaves. 

All  his  children  except  two — one  of  them 
the  infant  born  a  few  months  since  at  Lesbos — 
were  then  at  Rome.  And  in  Syria,  it  was 
possible  the  imperial  authority  might  devolve 
on  the  mortal  enemy,  appointed  by  Tiberius, 
who  had  so  relentlessly  pursued  his  steps,  and 
contravened  his  orders. 

Piso  and  Plancina,  still  lingering  among  the 
Grecian  seas  at  the  Isle  of  Cos,  were  over- 
joyed at  the  tidings  of  his  death  ;  made  public 
sacrifices  in  the  temples ;  threw  off  the  mourn- 
ing which  they  had  been  wearing  for  a  family 
bereavement ;  accused  Germanicus,  in  a  letter 
to  Tiberius,  of  luxury  and  insolence ;  and 
hastily  collecting  an  army  of  deserters  and 
malcontents,  returned  to  the  coasts  of  Syria. 

The  public  mourning  for  Germanicus  came 
later. 

Meantime,  among  the  numbers  who  recalled 
the  dignity  and  courtesy  of  his  bearing,  the 
princely  generosity  which  delighted  in  giving* 
to  the  needy,  the  nobler  generosity  which  had 
been  so  prompt  in  rescuing  his  worst  enemy 


240        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

from  shipwreck,  the  courteous  regard  for  the 
customs  and  beliefs  of  other  races,  so  graceful  in 
one  whose  station  raised  him  above  criticism, 
and  so  rare  in  a  Roman,  his  courage  in  the 
field,  his  care  for  his  soldiers,  his  gentleness 
to  the  foes  whom  severity  had  subdued,  his 
steadfast  loyalty  to  the  Emperor,  repaid  with 
such  ungenerous  suspicions,  his  pure  and  tem- 
perate life,  his  eloquent  words,  his  enthusiasm 
for  the  eloquent  and  beautiful  words  of  other 
men,  his  home,  worthy  of  the  ideal  days  of 
Rome — the  darkness  around  him,  the  bright 
hopes  for  the  world  which  had  centred  in 
him — among  all  who  recalled  these  things  the 
sorrow  was  deep  and  true. 

There  were  no  processions  at  his  funeral, 
no  images  of  ancestors,  no  sons  with  veiled 
heads  or  daughters  with  uncovered  faces  and 
dishevelled  hair.  But  the  hopes  of  the  whole 
Roman  Empire  were  veiled  at  his  death.  The 
whole  future  grew  black ;  and  little  as  it  could 
lessen  her  loneliness,  Agrippina  had  a  world 
to  mourn  with  her. 

The  German  captives,  slaves  in  the  young 
Caesar's  household,  had  also  cause  to  mourn 
the  death  of  the  noblest  enemy  Rome  had  sent 
them. 

They  would  have  mourned  more  if  they  had 
known  that,  by  one  of  the  strange  melodra- 
matic coincidences  of  history,  on  the  very  day 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         241 

on  which  Germanicus  had  died,  his  brave  foe 
Herman,  once  hailed  enthusiastically  by  his 
race  as  their  Deliverer,  had  fallen  by  the 
swords  of  his  own  people. 

The  Deliverer  and  the  Conqueror  of  the 
Germans  died  on  the  same  day ;  the  Roman 
Conqueror  (it  was  believed)  by  the  poison  of 
Romans, — the  German  Liberator  by  the  sword 
of  Germans. 

The  world,  Roman  and  German,  had  yet  to 
find  her  true  Conqueror  and  Deliverer. 


ii 


CHAPTER  XX. 


N  a  lowly  dwelling  in  the  quarter  of 
Antioch  where  the  numerous  Jewish 
colony  lived,  as  usual  congregating 
as  closely  as  possible,  and  having  their 
synagogue  for  the  centre  of  attraction,  were 
gathered  together,  one  evening  late  in  Octo- 
ber, the  German  captives  Siguna  and  Siward, 
with  little  Hilda,  old  Laon,  Callias,  the 
sculptor,  and  Onias  and  Esther,  the  master 
and  mistress  of  the  house. 

The  great  sorrow  (as  usual)  had  brought 
other  sorrows  and  separations  in  its  train,  and 
the  little  company  who  had  grown  so  familiar 
with  each  other,  had  met  for  a  last  interview 
on  the  eve  of  a  long  parting. 

Siguna  alone  was  to  return  in  the  household 
of  Agrippina  to  Rome. 

Dreading  more  than  separation  or  death  for 
her  daughter  the  pollution'of  one  of  the  great 
Roman  slave-households,  the  German  mother 

(*4») 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         243 

had  gladly  consented  to  the  purchase  of  the 
child  by  the  childless  Esther. 

A  strong  affection  had  grown  up  between 
the  two  women.  Siguna  felt  that  to  be  a  bond- 
maiden  in  the  charge  of  the  Jewess  would  be 
a  lot  nobler  than  freedom  in  many  a  home. 
And  the  heart  of  Esther  yearned  towards  the 
child  who  might  be  to  her  as  her  own, — in  all 
but  the  great  national  Hope,  which  was 
centred  in  the  mothers  of  her  race,  and  in 
them  alone. 

Laon's  contract  was  fulfilled,  and  he  was 
free.  In  a  short  time  he  hoped,  by  the  aid  of 
Onias'  skill  in  bargaining,  and  his  opportuni- 
ties for  the  sale  of  arms  among  his  turbulent 
compatriots,  to  make  capital  sufficient  to  pro- 
vide a  refuge  "for  his  foster-child,  Clcelia  Dio- 
dora,  if  fortune  should  enable  him  to  rescue 
her.  Siward  was  to  use  his  strong  arm  for 
them,  and  Callias  his  skill  in  ornament  and 
design. 

Onias  had  paid  the  purchase-money  for  both 
Hilda  and  Siward,  from  mysterious  sources, 
to  which  he  gave  no  clue.  In  a  few  years  it 
was  hoped  the  brother  would  work  out  the 
ransom  of  both  his  sister  and  himself. 

In  the  meantime  the  three  were  linked  to- 
gether by  a  common  interest,  and  inspired 
each  by  his  own  individual  hope. 

Laon  sighed  for  his  foster-child ;  Siward  for 


244        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

liberty  for  himself,  his  sister,  and  his  country 
(not  knowing  yet  how  the  hopes  of  the  North 
German  tribes  had  for  the  time  been  crushed 
by  the  assassination  of  Herman);  and  Callias 
was  inspired  by  a  long-cherished  purpose, 
which  he  had  only  that  evening  confided  to 
Siguna. 

His  heart  was  set  on  making,  in  some  future 
year,  little  Hilda  his  bride.  The  sister  of  a 
brave  brother,  and  the  daughter  of  a  goo$ 
mother,  with  a  dower  of  sunshine  in  her  fair 
face, — for  such  a  bride  he  would  be  content  to 
work  and  wait  his  seven  years. 

Siguna  and  Esther  held  grave  debate  on  the 
matter.  The  heart  of  the  German  turned  to- 
wards the  race  which,  in  the  person  of  Laon, 
had  so  befriended  her  boy ;  and  to  Callias  him- 
self for  his  courteous  bearing  to  them  in  their 
captivity ;  whilst  to  Esther  the  seven  years' 
service  had  a  patriarchal  sanction.  That 
evening,  therefore,  the  mother's  consent  was 
obtained  ;  and  little  Hilda,  unconscious  of  her 
dignity,  was  promised  to  Callias  as  his  future 
bride. 

Siguna's  heart  was  relieved  for  her  children. 
For  herself,  she  had  determined  her  course. 
She  would  accompany  Agrippina  to  Rome ; 
there,  as  soon  as  might  be,  earn  her  freedom, 
and  return  to  her  children  at  Antioch.  This 
she  had  told  them  all.  But  only  to  Siward,  in 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         245 

the  last  hour  before  her  departure,  did  she 
confide  the  immovable  purpose  which  lay 
deeper  in  her  heart  than  anything.  The  first 
moment  she  was  free  she  had  determined  to 
retrace  her  steps  along  the  fatal  Roman  Road 
to  the  Lippe  Valley,  and  there  to  find  if  Olave 
the  Smith,  her  husband,  still  lived.  All  else 
in  her  future  must  depend  on  the  issue  of  that 
search.  She  would  trust  no  one  but  herself 
to  make  it,  not  even  Siward.  Others  might 
*grow  too  soon  discouraged.  In  her  heart  only 
burned  that  unconquerable  instinct  which  told 
her  that  he  lived.  And  if  he  lived  she  would 
find  him. 

So  the  German  captive  family  was  again 
divided.  Hilda  remained  in  the  household  of 
Esther  the  Jewess,  and  Siward  in  the  work- 
shop of  old  Laon  on  the  borders  of  the 
Orontes ;  whilst  Siguna  went  back  over  the 
seas  to  Rome  with  Agrippina  and  her  children. 

Back  to  Rome  Agrippina  and  her  mournful 
company  went ;  to  Rome,  where,  not  two 
years  since,  the  princely  form  of  the  young 
Ceesar  in  his  Conqueror's  chariot  among  his 
boys  had  been  the  glory  of  the  Triumph ; 
across  the  seas,  with  their  clusters  of  thickly- 
peopled  isles,  where  a  few  months  before 
every  island  and  every  city  had  sent  forth 
their  festive  thousands  in  welcome. 


246         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

On  their  way,  by  the  Asiatic  shore,  they  en- 
countered the  ships  of  Piso.  There  was  ap- 
prehension of  a  battle.  But  the  fleets  passed 
each  other  with  no  further  collision  than  bitter 
words  shouted  from  crew  to  crew. 

Little  indeed  could  the  dread  of  such  hos- 
tilities have  moved  Agrippina.  In  her  youth 
she  had  stood  alone  on  the  side  of  the  Rhine 
nearest  the  enemy,  to  keep  the  bridge  for  her 
husband's  legions.  And  now,  although  the' 
love  which  had  kindled  the  courage  was  with 
her  no  more,  the  fears  of  love  had  perished 
with  it.  Henceforth  this  world  had  little 
terrible  to  threaten  her  with,  unless  it  were 
through  the  children  left  to  her  vain  and  feeble 
guardianship. 

Slowly  she  sailed  across  those  peopled  seas. 
A  storm  had  gathered  around  them,  and 
scattered  the  ships,  when  they  had  left  the 
coast  of  Italy  together.  Now  no  storm  hin- 
dered her.  The  powers  of  the  under-world 
had  accomplished  their  worst ;  and  no  "  envy 
of  the  gods"  need  lower  now,  with  sudden 
menaces  of  tempest,  around  the  widowed 
princess ;  her  course  was  too  certainly  towards 
shipwreck,  returning  to  a  court  .which  hated 
her,  with  the  ashes  of  her  husband.  Across 
calm  seas  and  under  the  pitiless  smile  of  sunny 
skies,  day  after  day  she  advanced  to  Rome. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         247 

We  do  not  hear  that  she  stopped  at  one  of 
the  places  where  so  short  a  time  ago  she  had 
been  welcomed  with  Germanicus.  No  festive 
gathering  now  at  Athens ;  no  fond  lingering 
at  Actium  over  the  places  sacred  to  the 
memory  of  their  common  ancestors. 

Only  at  Corcyra  she  rested  a  few  days,  to 
calm  her  spirit,  "  passionate  in  sorrow,  unused 
to  endure,"  to  restore  her  enfeebled  health, 
and  gather  strength  to  encounter  the  tide  of 
sympathy  and  of  recollections  which  awaited 
her  on  the  Italian  shores. 

Tidings  must  have  reached  her  there  how 
deeply  her  sorrow  was  felt  at  Rome  ;  how,  on 
a  false  report  of  the  death  of  Germanicus,  the 
courts  of  justice  had  been  dissolved,  and  pri- 
vate houses  shut  up ;  how  again,  on  a  delusive 
report  of  his  having  recovered,  the  doors  of 
the  temples  had  been  burst  open  by  the 
throngs  of  rejoicing  worshipers ;  and  after- 
wards, in  December,  the  Festival  of  the 
Saturnalia  had  been  no  festival,  for  the  mourn- 
ing throughout  the  city. 

The  friends  of  the  family  of  the  Csesar  did 
riot  wait  for  her  disembarkation,  but  hastened 
to  Brundusium,  and  crowded  in  ships  around 
her. 

She  landed  at  Brundusium,  bearing  in  her 
arms  the  Funeral  Urn,  the  two  children  who 
were  with  her  (one  an  infant  in  arms)  at  her 


248        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

side.     Her  other   children   met   her  on   the 
shore. 

Before  she  came  in  sight,  it  had  been  de- 
bated whether  it  would  be  best  to  receive  her 
in  silence,  or  with  any  voice  of  sorrow.  But 
when  she  stepped  on  shore,  bearing  the  sacred 
Urn,  her  eyes  cast  down,  one  groan  burst  from 
all ;  the  weeping  of  men  could  not  be  dis- 
tinguished from  that  of  the  women ;  only  (it 
was  said)  the  fresh  grief  of  those  who  came  to 
meet  her  was  louder  than  that  of  those  who 
had  been  with  her,  wearied  and  worn  with 
long  mourning. 

The  quays,  the  walls,  the  roofs  of  the  houses 
were  thronged  with  a  silent  multitude,  griev- 
ing with  her,  "  the  only  true  child  of  Augus- 
tus, the  only  relic  of  ancient  virtue  left." 
Never,  perhaps,  was  there  a  more  passionate 
and  genuine  popular  mourning.  For  those 
tears  and  lamentations  were  well  known  to 
find  no  favor  with  the  Emperor,  or  the  Em- 
peror's aged  mother.  All  formal  honors  had 
indeed  been  decreed  by  Tiberius.  The  officers 
of  two  Praetorian  cohorts  met  her  at  Brun- 
dusium ;  tribunes,  and  centurions,  were  ap- 
pointed to  bear  the  Urn  on  their  shoulders ; 
propitiatory  sacrifices  were  offered  on  the 
altars  of  the  Dii  Manes.  But  it  was  observed 
that  neither  Tiberius  nor  Livia,  nor  (it  was 
believed  in  consequence  of  the  Emperor's  pro- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         249 

hibition)  even  Antonia,  the  mother  of  Ger- 
manicus,  came  forth  to  meet  the  dead,  or  to 
receive  Agrippina.  The  people  in  every  city 
were  impelled  by  a  generous  impulse  to  com- 
pensate for  the  coldness  of  the  Emperor.  As 
they  passed  through  town  after  town,  the  poor 
citizens  in  black,  the  knights  in  purple  robes, 
came  to  meet  them ;  precious  raiment  and 
perfumes  were  burned  in  honor  of  the  beloved 
dead ;  whilst  from  the  country  districts  and 
the  more  distant  towns  the  people  gathered 
in  throngs. 

So  they  reached  the  neighborhood  of  Rome. 
Through  the  many  miles  of  tombs  bordering 
the  Appian  Way,  the  procession  passed. 

Siguna  thought  of  her  own  first  approach 
to  the  city  by  the  Flaminian  Way,  along  the 
great  road  from  the  North.  Then  all  around 
had  been  full  of  triumphal  festivity  ;  Germani- 
cus  and  his  family  themselves  the  centre  of  all 
the  life  and  joy.  By  the  Campus  Martius,  by 
amphitheatres  and  temples,  they  had  ap- 
proached the  Imperial  City  crowned  by  the 
Capitol,  and  along  the  Sacred  Way  had  been 
drawn,  to  be  themselves  laid  as  another  tri- 
bute at  her  feet. 

Now     trumpets,    flutes,    garlanded     oxen, 

festive    multitude,   all    had    vanished.      And 

slowly  the  family  of  Germanicus  passed  on 

through   the  tombs,  themselves   the   saddest 

11* 


250        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

spectacle  of  all,  no  more  to  lay  the  wreath  of 
victory  on  the  Capitol,  but  to  lay  the  Urn 
with  its  few  light  ashes  in  the  Mausoleum  of 
the  Caesars  by  the  Tiber. 

Henceforth  to  Agrippina,  from  a  Triumphal 
Way,  all  the  way  through  life  had  become  a 
Way  of  Tombs ;  shadow  after  shadow  would 
cross  her  path,  yet  scarcely  darken  it  more. 

From  the  City,  the  Senate  and  a  great  part 
of  the  Roman  people  came  forth  to  meet  her. 
Not  in  a  stately,  formal  procession,  but  in 
broken  groups — lamenting  in  low  voices  to 
each  other,  rik  men  for  whom  in  this  death  much 
was  lost  for  ever — they  entered  together  the 
City  gates. 

One  heart  remained  little  changed.  One 
cold  and  bitter  heart — which  had  been  wrap- 
ped in  envious  gloom  when  all  Rome  was  re- 
joicing with  Germanicus  the  Conqueror — 
was  chilled  to  a  deeper  darkness  by  the 
passionate  lamentation  over  his  death.  Life 
has  no  fields  so  barren  that  Envy  cannot 
gather  her  poisons  there.  If  every  shout  of  ex- 
ultation in  the  Triumph  of  Germanicus  had 
been  like  a  sting  to  Tiberius,  this  silence  and 
this  passionate  mourning  pierced  him  with  a 
deeper  wound. 

The  day  on  which  the  sacred  relics  were 
borne  to  the  mausoleum  of  Augustus  was  no 
day  of  even-voiced,  melodious  lamentation. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         251 

At  one  time  the  crowded  streets  were  "a 
waste  of  desolate  silences ;"  at  another,  rest- 
less with  bitter  wailing-.  The  Campus  Martius 
(near  which,  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  the 
mausoleum  stood)  was  one  blaze  of  light  with 
funeral  torches:  armed  troops,  magistrates 
without  their  insignia,  the  people  in  their 
tribes,  crying  that  the  Commonwealth  had 
fallen,  and  no  hope  was  left :  all  hearts  burn- 
ing with  love  and  sorrow  for  the  pure,  brave 
lives  so  few  cared  to  follow  ;  for  the  lost  Cas- 
sar  and  the  mourning  Agrippina — calling  on 
her  as  the  "glory  of  the  country,  the  only 
blood  of  Augustus,"  the  only  type  of  ancient 
ideal  times  left;  calling  on  the  gods,  with 
faces  turned  heavenward,  "  to  preserve  her 
offspring,  that  they  might  survive  the  wicked." 
A  genuine  burst  of  sorrow,  regardless  of  pru- 
dence, braving  the  anger  of  the  Emperor ; 
reve_aling  for  a  moment  to  that  fallen  people 
the  ideal  they  had  lost ;  revealing  in  them  for 
a  moment,  as  true  sorrow  does,  the  ideal  for 
which  they  were  created. 

It  was  not  Germanicus  only  the  Roman 
people  mourned  that  day.  It  was  Rome — it 
was  Roman  honor  and  purity.  It  was  more  : 
it  was  a  sorrow  they  had  not  learned  to  name ; 
the  source  of  all  darkness  worth  the  name  of 
darkness.  It  was  a  lost  paradise,  lost  human 
happiness,  a  fallen  human  race,  for  which  they 


252        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

wept.  It  was  Sin.  It  was  the  lost  ideal  of 
humanity  then  (unknown  to  them)  being  lived 
into  reality  again  at  Nazareth.  It  was  the 
lost  Shepherd,  the  lost  King  and  Saviour  of 
men. 

But  on  his  icy  height  Tiberius  kept  still 
apart,  unwarmed  by  the  sunshine  of  common 
men,  untouched  by  their  storms  of  purifying 
sorrow.  And  soon  from  that  summit  fell  from 
afar  on  the  ears  of  mortals  a  hard  voice, 
audible  as  a  trumpet,  and  inhuman,  with  no 
uncertain  sound — sarcastic,  sententious,  epi- 
grammatic, full  of  unanswerable  common- 
places and  unmitigated  commonsense. 

"  Princes  were  mortal,"  it  said  ;  "  the  State 
was  eternal.  It  was  not  unseemly  to  lament 
in  the  first  transport  of  sorrow ;  nay,  tears 
were  even  a  relief.  But  now  it  was  time  to 
compose  their  minds  ;  as  formerly  the  divine 
Julius  losing  his  only  daughter,  and  the  divine 
Augustus  deprived  of  his  grandsons,  had  re- 
pressed their  grief.  Often  before,"  it  sarcasti- 
cally suggested,  "  the  Roman  people  had 
borne  calmly  the  death  of  generals.  The 
April  spectacles  of  the  great  goddess  were  at 
hand.  Let  them  resume  their  amusements !" 

A  little  later  he  might  have  pointed  the  les- 
son with  his  own  example,  when  he  replied  to 
a  letter  of  condolence  from  the  Grecians  for 
the  death  of  his  own  son  Drusus,  by  express- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         253 

ing  to  them  in  return  his  sympathy  with  them 
for  the  death  of  Hector  of  Troy. 

Such  was  the  heart  to  which  Agrippina — 
proud,  courageous,  pure,  truthful — had  to  look 
for  protection  for  herself  and  her  children. 
Such  was  the  heart  of  him  to  whom  the  Ro- 
man world  entreated  to  be  suffered  to  erect 
temples,  believing  that  all  power  was  given  to 
him  in  heaven  and  on  earth. 

This  passionate  mourning  for  Germanicus 
(in  itself,  by  its  implied  comparison  with  him- 
self, almost  a  revolt)  was  scarcely  over  when 
an  entreaty  came  from  this  same  Roman 
people  to  the  Emperor  which  must  have 
moved  him  to  a  cynical  smile.  The  pauper 
citizens  had  murmured  at  the  price  of  corn. 
Tiberius  settled  the  price  of  it  to  the  buyer 
by  himself  paying  the  extra  price  to  the  corn- 
dealer.  Thereupon  the  Roman  people  spoke 
of  his  "  care  of  the  State  "  as  "  divine,"  invoked 
himself  as  "  Lord,"  and  once  more  supplicated 
permission  to  call  him  "  Father  of  the  Coun- 
try." 

Tiberius  refused  the  titles,  and  sharply  re- 
buked the  suppliants.  "  Speech  was  difficult," 
it  was  said,  "  under  a  ruler  who  dreaded 
liberty  and  hated  flattery." 

A  strange  horror  mixed  with  pity  almost 
fascinates  the  gaze  on  this  cold,  calm  man,  in- 
capable, it  would  seem,  of  joy  or  of  sympathy  ; 


254        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

but  not  incapable,  as  it  seemed  afterwards,  of 
anguish.  Himself  compelled  to  act  the  prin- 
cipal part  in  a  world  of  shows,  he  hated  all 
shows  of  grief  or  joy ;  and  from  his  cold 
height,  and  with  his  passionless  eyes,  gazed 
through  them,  or  brushed  them  away  like 
cobwebs. 

Exaggeration  was  in  his  eyes  a  crime,  and 
he  lived  the  centre  of  a  world  of  the  wildest 
exaggerations.  He  suffered  the  senators  to 
talk  poetically  of  "  the  priests  of  Mars  singing 
the  name  of  Germanicus  among  the  names  of 
the  gods,  with  dance  and  striking  of  shields  in 
the  processional  Salian  hymn  ;  of  placing  a 
curule  chair  for  him  at  the  circus,  surmounted 
with  oaken  crowns ;  or  carrying  his  ivory 
statue  in  the  Circensian  games."  He  suffered 
arches  to  be  erected  to  his  memory  at  Rome, 
'on  the  Rhine,  on  Amanus  in  Syria,  a  cenotaph 
at  Antioch,  a  tribunal  at  Epidaphne.  But 
when  they  would  have  decreed  Germanicus  a 
golden  shield,  of  an  extra  size,  as  the  meed  of 
eloquence,  the  critical  Emperor  interfered. 
"  Not  larger,"  he  said,  "  than  the  shields  of 
others  ;  for  eloquence  was  not  measured  by 
fortune." 

Tiberius  even  disapproved  of  exaggeration 
in  plundering  the  provinces.  By  his  appoint- 
ment the  changes  among  the  governors  of 
Syria  were  less  frequent  than  usual,  on  the 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         255 

principle,  he  said,  "that  one  swarm  of  flies 
might  be  satiated  with  the  blood  of  the  victim, 
and  it  was  an  unnecessary  cruelty  to  drive  it 
away  to  be  replaced  by  another." 

Of  the  frightful  crimes  which  are  said  to 
have  ended  his  career,  there  were  as 'yet  few 
symptoms. 

Strong,  able,  clear-sighted,  far-sighted,  re- 
jecting sympathy,  indignant  with  infirmity — 
the  contrast  between  Tiberius  and  Him  whose 
true  universal  empire  was  growing  irresistibly 
under  his  rule,  was,  perhaps,  even  stronger 
then,  than  in  those  later  days  of  orgy  and  vio- 
lence. 

For  the  character  of  the  Emperor  stood 
bare  in  its  essence,  unconcealed,  if  unpolluted, 
by  the  rank  death-growth  of  after  years. 

It  was  not  to  one  untouched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities,  tearlessly  diverting  the 
mourner  from  the  grave  to  the  "  games,"  in 
his  own  sorrow  sarcastically  rejecting  sym- 
pathy, that  all  power  was  given. 

But  to  One  who,  when  He  said,  "  Weep 
not,"  made  death  give  back  its  prey ;  and 
who,  with  the  sorrow  He  so  soon  turned  into 
joy,  "  wept." 

To  One  who,  indeed,  with  insight  clearer 
than  that  of  Tiberius,  knew  what  was  in  man  ; 
knew  how  the  three  would  slumber,  and  one 
betray,  and  all  forsake,  yet  sought  their  feeble 


256        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

sympathy,  and  hoped  for  them  through  all 
their  Tearfulness ;  and  before  the  Father,  in 
the  calm  intensity  of  His  last  prayer,  said  how 
He  prized  their  faltering  love. 

To  Him  whose  compassion  was  infinitely 
tender,  because  His  sight  was  infinitely  clear ; 
because,  through  all  the  deadly  intertwining 
of  sin  around  the  inmost  heart,  He  saw  that 
the  deadly  clasp  could  be  unlocked,  and  un- 
locked by  love  alone ;  and  loved  on,  and  died 
for  love,  and  by  loving  and  dying  has  un- 
locked that  mortal  embrace  of  sin  from  hearts 
innumerable,  age  after  age,  and  has  redeemed 
and  liberated  them  for  ever  and  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

I  GUN  A  had  been  entrusted  by  the 
Jewess  Esther  with  a  packet  and  a 
message  for  her  father  in  Rome.  One 
evening  she  consulted  Clcelia  Dio- 
dora  as  to  the  best  method  of  finding  the  old 
man,  and  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  venerable  Jew  who  had  spoken  to  Clcelia 
on  the  Ccelian  Hill  might  be  Esther's  father. 

"  He  used  often  on  summer  evenings  to  sit 
on  a  stone  outside  our  garden,"  Diodora  said. 
"  I  used  to  take  him  a  cup  of  cold  water  from 
our  well  sometimes,  and  grapes  from  our 
vines  ;  and  he  used  to  tell  me  lovely  stories 
from  the  history  of  his  people :  of  good  wo- 
men and  their  joys  and  sorrows  ;  of  women 
brave  and  heroic  as  the  men,  who  delivered 
the  land  from  tyrants  ;  of  a  king  who  had 
been  a  shepherd,  and  was  a  poet  always,  by 
the  sheepfold  or  on  the  throne,  who  sang 
songs  to  his  harp.  Strange  songs  they  were, 
full  of  longing  and  love,  and  overwhelming 


258  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

sorrow  breaking  into  rapturous  joy.  But  all 
the  love  and  longing  joy  and  sorrow  were 
not  for  earthly  love,  but  for  his  God.  And 
once  the  old  man  told  me  of  a  great  Hope  of 
their  nation,  of  a  Deliverer  whom  he  thought 
must  be  close  at  hand,  who  might  indeed  be 
in  the  world  somewhere  even  now.  I  liked 
to  listen.  But  then  Laon  told  me  these  Jews 
have  a  dark  misanthropic  superstition,  and  I 
might  be  brought  under  the  spell  of  it  before 
I  was  aware.  So,  since  Laon  left,  I  have  lis- 
tened to  the  old  man  no  more  about  his  re- 
ligion. Moreover,  lately  there  have  been 
dark  rumors  about  the  wicked  rites  of  certain 
Egyptians,  who  they  say  are  like  these  Jews. 
But  now  and  then  I  have  brought  the  old 
man  water,  or  figs  and  grapes,  and  sometimes 
let  him  talk  to  me  about  his  family,  as  he  sat 
outside  the  garden  on  the  slopes  of  the  Ccelian. 
He  has  a  daughter  in  Syria  ;  and  he  has  spok- 
en to  me  of  two  little  grandsons  who  rest,  he 
says,  in  the  Jewish  Catacombs  beyond  the 
Tiber.  It  must  be  the  same  of  whom  your 
Jewess  Esther  spoke.  This  evening,  we  will 
creep  through  the  garden  door  and  see  if  he 
is  there." 

That  evening  the  German  mother  and  the 
Roman  girl,  looking  out  through  the  garden 
door,  saw  a  feeble,  bent,  white-haired  old  man 
standing  outside.  His  arms  were  outstretch- 


VICTORY  Of  THE   VANQUISHED.         259 

ed,  his  face  was  turned  to  the  south-east,  to- 
wards the  Alban  hills,  where  the  sunset  was  re- 
flected from  the  height  of  the  old  Latin  shrine. 

But  his  gaze  was  not  resting  on  any  Italian 
hills  or  any  pagan  shrines.  Beyond,  beyond 
them  all,  to  the  sanctuary  of  his  race  ;  to  the 
hills  which  stand  round  about  Jerusalem ;  to 
the  city  where  David  dwelt,  the  shrine  to- 
wards which  Daniel  prayed,  the  home  of  his 
youth  ;  the  centre  of  the  great  promises  which 
irradiated  the  future  for  him,  for  Israel,  for 
the  nations. 

Beyond,  beyond  Jerusalem,  her  hills  and 
her  Temple,  to  Him  "  from  whom  cometh 
help,"  to  Him  whom  "heaven,  and  the  heaven 
of  heavens  cannot  contain." 

Cloelia  paused  reverently  when  she  saw 
him,  and  withdrew  into  the  shadow  of  the 
gateway. 

"  Those  old  hymns  of  his  people  are  in  his 
heart  and  on  his  face  !"  she  said.  "  See  how 
it  glows  with  love,  and  longing,  and  hope, 
and  joy.  Have  you  ever  seen  anything  like 
this,  Siguna  ?  Some  one  that  old  man  loves 
is  in  heaven,  and  he  is  speaking  to  him  !" 

"  Once  I  saw  something  like  it,"  Siguna 
answered,  "in  Esther.  She  is  his  daughter. 
I  am  sure  of  it  now.  That  look  in  his  face 
has  brought  out  a  likeness  I  might  not  other- 
wise have  seen.  Once,  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee, 


260        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

I  saw  her  look  just  so.  There  had  been  a 
festival  in  their  synagogue  that  morning,  she 
told  me  afterwards  ;  and  a  present  given  of  a 
fair  covering  for  their  Sacred  Book,  on  the 
first  birth-day  of  the  son  of  a  rich  Galilean. 

"  I  found  her  standing  thus  at  sunset  by  a 
little  lonely  village  Proseucha,  a  Jewish  place 
of  prayer.  The  waves  were  rippling  on  the 
shingle,  and  all  the  sky  was  glowing  behind 
the  western  hills.  She  was  looking  heaven- 
ward, and  the  tears  were  streaming  over  her 
face.  But  she  was  speaking  to  some  one  she 
knew  well ;  as  he  is  now.  And  on  her  face 
were  the  same  awe,  and  love,  and  longing. 
Scarcely,  I  think,  the  same  joy.  Afterwards, 
when  she  saw  me,  she  said,  '  They  will  not 
return  to  me,  but  I  shall  go  to  them  ; '  and 
then  looking  up  again  :  '  There  is  forgiveness, 
forgiveness  with  Thee  !'  Forgiveness!  I  have 
always  remembered,  because  of  her  face ;  and 
because  the  word  was  so  strange  to  me.  Ven- 
geance, justice  we  hear  of  from  the  gods. 
Perhaps  of  penalties  remitted.  But  '  forgive- 
ness '  seemed  something  altogether  new.  For- 
giveness such  as  this.  The  penalty  had  been 
inflicted  to  the  utmost  on  her.  Her  children 
were  gone  from  her  for  ever.  She  had  noth- 
ing to  ask ;  she  had  nothing  to  lose.  Yet 
she  spoke  of  forgiveness  as  of  something 
which  filled  her  with  unutterable  longing.  I 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         26l 

wondered  long;  until  one  day  I  asked  her, 
'  What  is  this  forgiveness,  this  joy  for  which 
you  long  ?  ' ' 

"  '  Do  you  not  know  ? '  she  said.  '  Had  you 
never  a  mother  that  you  grieved?  never  a 
friend  or  a  child  who  grieved  you  ?  The  joy 
of  forgiveness?  It  is  being  forgiven.  It  is 
being  welcomed  back  to  the  heart  we  have 
grieved.  When  David  the  king  cried  on  God 
for  mercy,  the  child  was  dead.  He  did  not 
pray  for  the  blow  to  be  averted.  It  had  fallen. 
He  prayed  for  the  sin  to  be  forgiven.  He 
prayed  for  the  old  loving-kindness  to  be  felt 
in  his  heart  once  more.' 

"  That  was  another  new  word  to -me,"  Si- 
guna  added.  "  Sin.  Not  crime  and  ven- 
geance. But  sin  and  forgiveness.  It  was 
new  and  strange.  She  talked  to  me  often, 
and  sometimes  I  think  I  understand  a  little. 
But  I  understand  best  when  I  think  of  the 
look  that  evening  on  her  face,  as  now  on  his." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  old  man  took  his  staff 
and  sank  down  on  the  seat,  and  then  they  saw 
how  feeble  and  tottering  the  thin  frame  was. 

Gently  they  drew  near  to  him. 

"  I  think  it  is  for  thee  I  have  a  message," 
Siguna  said  ;  "  from  Esther  the  Jewess." 

The  old  man's  dark  eyes  brightened  and  his 
brow  flushed  as  he  scanned  the  kind,  honest 
face. 


262        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  My  child  !"  he  murmured. 

"  She  is  at  Antioch,  with  Onias  her  hus- 
band," Siguna  answered  ;  "  and  she  bade  me 
say  there  is  a  welcome  for  thee  under  their 
roof;  and  to  pray  thee  from  her  and  Onias  to 
come." 

The  old  man  clasped  his  hands. 

"  Is  Onias  then  rich  again  ?"  he  said  ;  "  and 
has  he  forgiven  me  ?  I  made  a  foolish  con- 
tract once,"  he  added  humbly,  "  and  lost 
much  money  for  him  as  well  as  for  myself 
and  Esther.  I  did  foolishly.  And  I  thought 
he  would  never  have  forgiven." 

"  Esther  the  Jewess  bade  me  say  Onias  de- 
sires thy-  presence  under  his  roof.  Things 
have  not  gone  altogether  well  with  him.  He 
was  robbed  once  near  Jericho.  And  look- 
ing round  for  cause  why  he  should  be  thus 
punished,  he  remembered  thee,  and  some 
ancient  commandment  about  parents,  with 
a  promise,  and  thought  perhaps  it  might 
bring  down  a  blessing  on  his  roof  if  he  took 
thee  home  and  suffered  thy  daughter  to 
cherish  thy  old  age.  This  from  Onias.  And 
she  bade  me  add,  that  the  deepest  desire  of 
her  heart  is  to  see  thee  and  to  have  thy  bless- 
ing again  before  she  dies." 

"  His  ways  are  above  our  ways,"  said  the 
old  man,  rising  reverently.  "  I  am  driven 
from  Rome.  Four  thousand  of  us  forced  into 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         263 

the  Roman  service,  and  exiled  to  Sardinia  to 
root  out  the  robbers  on  the  mountains  there, 
and  (the  Romans  hope)  to  perish  in  the  strife 
or  by  the  cruel  climate.  These  are  our  young 
and  strong.  The  rest — we,  the  aged  and  in- 
firm— are  all  banished  instantly  from  Rome. 
And  now  once  more  my  daughter's  home  is 
open  to  me !" 

"  Lady,"  he  added,  turning  to  Clcelia,  "  I 
came  to-night  to  thank  thee  for  thy  kindness 
to  an  outcast  old  man,  and  to  pray  thee  not 
to  believe  the  evil  they  speak  of  me  and  of 
my  people.  We  are  driven  from  the  city  be- 
cause of  the  iniquities  of  certain  Egyptian  idol- 
aters. We  Jews  confounded  with  the  Egyp- 
tians, wjio  hate  us  !  we  servants  of  our  God 
condemned  with  these  worshipers  of  abom- 
inations !  No  court  to  plead  in,  no  judge  to 
appeal  to !  We  deserve  it  perhaps  for  other 
sins.  But  thou,  I  pray,  confound  us  not  with 
those  who  hate  us  and  baspheme  our  God. 
It  is  hard  to  be  execrated  for  worshiping 
Him  only.  But  to  be  cast  out  with  those 
who  hate  Him,  this  is  bitter  indeed.  Believe 
it  not." 

"  I  believe  nothing  evil  of  thee,"  Clcelia  said. 
And  Siguna  added, — 

"  Come  hither  once  again  to-morrow,  that  I 
may  bring  thee  the  money  thy  daughter  sent 
to  help  thee  on  the  way." 


264        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

But  on  the  next  evening  no  old  man  was  to 
be  found  on  the  stone  seat,  nor  anywhere  on 
the  hill-side.  Nor  on  the  next,  nor  even  on 
the  next  again. 

The  following  day  was  the  day  for  the  exe- 
cution of  the  decree  of  exile.  By  the  evening 
of  that  day  not  a  Jew  nor  a  Jewess  was  to  be 
left  in  Rome. 

Siguna  resolved  to  lose  rfo  more  time.  That 
very  evening  she  searched  among  the  Jewish 
dwellings  in  the  valley  of  Egeria ;  but  it  was 
not  until  the  next  day  that,  at  last,  in  a  poor 
shed  in  the  Jewish  quarter  beyond  the  Tiber, 
she  found  the  old  man,  lying,  forsaken  and 
helpless,  on  an  old  embroidered  rug  of  Syrian 
workmanship.  Beside  him  were  bread  and  a 
cruse  of  water,  and  some  of  the  grapes  Clcelia 
Diodora  had  given  him  on  the  last  evening 
they  had  seen  him. 

It  was  plain  that  the  decree  of  exile  would 
never  be  enforced  on  him. 

"  I  shall  not  see  Antioch  !  "  he  said  to  Sigu- 
na, whose  quiet  motherly  demeanor  made  it 
seem  quite  natural  she  should  be  beside  his 
sick-bed.  Kneeling  on  the  ground  beside 
him,  she  folded  her  veil  into  a  pillow  for  him, 
choosing  the  freshest  grapes  to  place  within 
his  parched  lips. 

"  Now  you  are  come,"  he  murmured,  "  I 
shall  die  content.  You  will  take  my  child  a 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         265 

message.  Tell  her  I  blessed  her  always,  every 
day,  a  hundred  times  a  day ;  and  now  at  last 
more  than  ever.  Tell  her  God  will  bless  her, 
is  blessing  her  always,  though  not  in  ways  we 
choose." 

Siguna  obtained  permission  to  stay  with  the 
dying  man.  That  night  there  were  wailings 
and  bitter  partings  and  an  eager  stir  of  pre- 
paration in  the  streets,  and  the  ceaseless  pass- 
ing of  men  and  women  laden  with  all  they 
could  carry  of  their  household  furniture. 
The  next  evening  there  was  dead  silence  all 
around.  Empty  houses  and  empty  streets  ; 
and  the  German  captive  left  alone  with  the 
Jewish  exile,  following  him  as  far  as  she  might 
on  that  bitter  path  of  everlasting  exile  from 
all  familiar  things  and  dear  faces  which  was 
all  she  knew  certainly  of  death. 

Occasionally  the  old  Jew's  heart  was  light- 
ed up  by  a  hope  she  knew  not.  He  spoke  of 
a  Resurrection  at  a  Last  Day.  But  it  did 
not  seem  to  be  from  this  that  the  real  light 
came  which  sometimes  kindled  his  failing 
eyes.  Between  him  and  that  Last  Day  lay  a 
long  unknown  sleep.  Between  this  Egypt 
and  that  Promised  Land  lay  a  tract  of  unex- 
plored wilderness  no  one  who  had  traversed 
it  had  ever  returned  to  speak  of.  What 
dreams  might  be  in  that  sleep,  what  dragons, 
and  deeps,  and  mountains  burning  with  fire, 
12 


266        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED, 

and  bitter  Marahs,  and  waste  trackless  soli- 
tudes, he  knew  not. 

Only  he  knew  that  God  was  there — here, 
there,  everywhere.  "  Even  there  shall  Thy 
hand  be  ;  "  not  to  crush  but  to  uphold,  not  to 
drive  but  to  "  lead." 

Sometimes  indeed  his  faith  grew  dim  ;  and 
then  a  shadow  rested  on  him,  darker,  it  seem- 
ed to  Siguna,  than  any  she  had  seen  on  dying 
faces  before. 

He  spoke  of  sin,  of  transgression,  with  a 
horror  which  communicated  itself  to  her, 
She  remembered  what  she  had  heard  of  the 
crimes  of  the  banished  Egyptians,  and  at 
times  felt  as  if  she  must  be  in  the  presence  of 
some  fearful  criminal ;  until  at  length  she 
gathered  courage  to  ask  him  gently  if  he  had 
any  great  crime  on  his  conscience,  and  if  any- 
thing could  be  done  to  expiate  it,  or  to  remedy 
the  consequence.  Had  he  wronged  any  one? 
Could  she  at  least  say  he  had  confessed  and 
asked  forgiveness,  that  at  least  he  might  rest 
in  the  grave  ?  " 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  wrong,  nor  crime  !  "  he  said.  "  Sin  ! 
Against  Him  I  have  sinned,  and  before  Him 
I  shall  stand  !  Thou  requirest  truth  within, 
within.  And  within  me  is  sin." 

It  was  the  word  Esther  had  used,  the  ter- 
ror she  had  felt  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  strange 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         267 

to  the  German  matron.  She  could  only  think 
of  some  wrong  done  to  men,  or  some  trans- 
gression of  ritual  which  might  have  offended 
the  gods. 

"  Can  I  tell  thy  child  to  have  expiations, 
libations,  sacrifices  made  for  thee  ?  "  she  said. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  know  Esther  would  do  anything  for  me," 
he  said  with  moistened  eyes.  "  But  no,  there 
is  only  One.  Wash  me,  purge  me,  and  I  shall 
be  whiter  than  snow.  There  is  forgiveness 
with  Thee — forgiveness." 

"  Forgiveness !  "  Again  Esther's  word,  and 
again  on  the  face  of  the  dying  man  something 
of  the  awe  and  light  on  hers. 

Then  again  dim,  mournful,  dying  words 
from  the  histories  of  his  ancient  people  came 
back  on  him,  as  his  spirit  shivered  in  that 
same  awful  shadow  within  which  they  had 
first  been  uttered. 

"  Shall  the  dead  praise  Thee,"  he  murmured, 
"  or  they  that  go  down  to  the  pit !  I  said,  I 
shall  not  see  the  Lord,  even  the  Lord,  in  the 
land  of  the  living.  I  shall  behold  man  no 
more.  The  grave  cannot  praise  Thee.  Death 
cannot  celebrate  Thee.  They  that  go  down 
into  the  pit  cannot  hope  for  Thy  truth.  Can- 
not hope  for  Thy  truth ! "  he  murmured. 
"  Will  even  that  be  lost  there  ?  Shall  my 
people  be  saved,  and  I  not  see  it  ?  Shall  the 


268        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Redeemer  come  to  Sion,  and  I  not  know  it  ? 
'  Arise,  shine,  for  thy  light  is  come  ! '  So  near, 
so  near,  O  my  God,  to  the  brightness  of  Thy 
coming.  And  yet  must  the  shadow  come  first, 
and  no  light  ever  pierce  it  for  me  ! " 

Then  he  would  add, — 

"  Perchance  she  will  see  it — my  Esther,  my 
child  ! " 

And  then, — 

"  If  it  tarry,  wait  for  it.  It  will  surely  come. 
It  will  not  tarry.  A  thousand  years  in  Thy 
sight  are  but  as  yesterday.  Couldst  Thou  not 
have  spared  me  one  of  Thy  moments,  to  see 
the  morning  break? — the  morning  without 
clouds  !  I  had  thought  He  would  not  let  me 
die  until  it  broke." 

Then  turning  once  more  to  the  great  Hope 
of  his  people,— 

"  This  is  our  God — we  have  waited  for  Him. 
And  He  will  save  us.  Yet,  yet  shall  this  song 
be  sung  in  Zion." 

And  with  the  hope  which  led  him  from  self 
to  God,  once  more  the  light  broke  in  on  his 
own  heart, — 

"  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth^  do 
right,  with  me,  even  with  me  !  " 

And  again, — 

"  I  will  love  Thee,  O  Lord,  my  strength.  I 
shall  yet  praise  Him  who  is  the  health  of  my 
countenance  and  my  God." 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         269 

Patiently  the  German  captive  watched  be- 
side him,  wondering  at  this  conflict  and  com- 
munion with  One  unseen,  yet  so  trusted  and 
loved. 

Death  was  evidently  dying  to  him.  No 
divine  word  from  human  lips  had  yet  dissolv- 
ed its  terror. 

The  future  was  evidently  dim  to  him.  But 
an  inextinguishable  light  burned  on  through 
all  the  darkness. 

God,  trusted,  feared,  known,  loved,  was 
with  this  departing  one.  Not  so  much  a  hope 
of  immediate  immortality  sustained  «him,  nor 
visions  of  a  bright  world  beyond  this  ;  but  one 
eternal,  glorious,  sustaining  Presence,  shining 
through  all  worlds,  shining  through  all  bar- 
riers between, — and,  when  he  could  look  at  it, 
not  so  much  promising  immortality  as  obliter- 
ating death  with  the  deathless  light  of  the 
Divine  countenance. 

He  made  her  promise  to  have  his  body  laid 
among  his  people  in  the  Jewish  Catacomb. 
He  showed  her  the  little  bundle  of  spices  his 
people  had  left  beside  him  to  embalm  him  as 
the  manner  of  the  Jews  is  to  bury. 

And,  mingled  with  strange  words  in  a 
foreign  tongue,  which  sounded  to  her  like 
deep  murmurs  of  some  subterranean  river, 
she  heard  him  say  among  his  last  audible 
speeches, —  ' 


270        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  I  will  lay  me  down  in  peace  and  sleep." 

And  again, — 

"  Oh,  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove !  Then 
would  I  flee  away  and  be  at  rest."  "  I  shall 
be  satisfied  when  I  awake  in  Thy  likeness. 
Satisfied." 

And  last  of  all, — 

"  Lay  me  down  and  sleep,  in  peace,  in 
peace." 

When,  in  faithful  fulfilment  of  his  last  re- 
quest, she  went  to  see  him  laid  in  the  Jewish 
Catacomb, — among  the  symbols  on  the  tombs 
there  she  saw  many  times  on  the  walls  the 
picture  of  a  dove  about  to  take  flight,  with  an 
olive  branch  in  its  mouth.  And  among  the 
inscriptions  she  saw  again  and  again, — 
"  Peace."  "  In  peace." 

She  came  away,  pondering  many  things  in 
her  heart ;  thinking  of  the  old  man's  weary 
spirit,  and  wondering  whether  it  had  indeed 
found  the  wings  it  longed  for,  and  was  at  rest. 

Often  she  and  Clcelia  Diodora  spoke  to- 
gether of  those  things,  and  wondered  what 
they  meant. 

And  often  the  deformed  girl  longed  to  speak 
of  them  to  her  sister  the  Vestal ;  but  she 
thought  of  Laon,  and  did  not  dare. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

LOWLY  the  coils  twined  closer  and 
closer  around  Agrippina  and  her 
children,  slowly,  but  never  relaxing-. 
It  does  not  seem  to  have  been  so 
much  a  deliberate  purpose  of  destroying  her, 
on  the  part  of  Tiberius,  as  a  sleepless,  pas- 
sionate fear  which  possessed  him  ;  a  weak 
will  in  the  place  of  power  perpetually  chafing 
against  a  strong  will  in  the  place  of  depend- 
ence. The  repulsion  of  a  suspicious,  timid, 
subservient  nature,  with  an  instinctive  prefer- 
ence for  subterranean  and  crooked  ways,  from 
a  nature  courageous,  frank,  straightforward, 
and  little  able  to  stoop. 

It  was  no  strong  paternal  affection  for  his 
son  Drusus  which  made  him  thus  jealous  of 
the  representatives  of  Germanicus.  He  chose 
at  last  Caligula,  one  of  Agrippina's  children, 
as  his  successor,  in  preference  to  his  own 
grandson. 

Nor  were  this  distrust  and  jealousy  only  fed 

(271) 


272         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

by  the  intrigues  of  rivals.  However  dili- 
gently fanned  by  his  minister  Sejanus,  and  by 
others  who  had  a  strong  personal  interest  in 
Agrippina's  ruin,  the  flame  burned  on  when 
Sejanus  and  those  who  had  nourished  it  were 
gone. 

It  was  harder  for  Agrippina  to  fulfil  the 
dying  commands  of  Germanicus  than  for  his 
friends.  On  them  he  had  enjoined  vengeance  ; 
on  her  submission.  They  had  well-nigh  the 
whole  Roman  people  on  their  side  in  calling 
for  vengeance  on  his  murderers.  But  for 
Agrippina  to  lay  aside  her  proud,  unyielding 
character  was  not  so  easy,  when  the  affection 
to  which  her  pride  had  delighted  to  bend,  and 
the  serene,  even  temper,  the  kindly,  genial 
character  which  had  softened  hers,  were  taken 
from  her. 

Nor  was  it  easy  for  her  to  live  in  depend- 
ence on  the  Empress-mother,  who  had  many 
a  womanish  grudge  against  her  from  of  old, 
and  who  persisted  in  shielding  Plancina,  the 
proud  wife  of  Piso,  from  the  sentence  of  the 
law  and  the  vengeance  of  the  people,  under 
her  own  personal  friendship. 

Yet  Agrippina  lived  to  prove  that  even  the 
guardianship  of  the  Empress  Livia,  cold  and 
comfortless  as  it  was,  had  sheltered  her  from 
that  fiercer  passion  of  jealousy  and  fear  which 
burned  against  her  in  the  Emperor's  heart. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         273 

Few  things  are  more  tragical  than  the  his- 
tory of  the  fourteen  years  of  Agrippina's 
widowhood. 

To  be  her  friend  was  to  be  a  mark  for  the 
Emperor's  ravens — the  informers  who  lived 
on  the  destruction  of  their  victims ;  a  mark, 
as  it  must  have  seemed,  for  fate  itself. 

Drusus,  the  son  of  Tiberius,  had  shown  a 
kindly  interest  in  her.  He  was  murdered, 
through  the  perfidy  of  his  wife,  the  sister  of 
Germanicus. 

Silius  had  rendered  signal  service  to  the 
State  by  quelling  a  wide-spread  and  perilous 
revolt  in  Gaul.  But  his  wife  was  Agrippina's 
friend.  The  informers  attacked  him  ;  he  was 
condemned,  and  perished. 

The  highest  station,  even  imperial  blood, 
could  not  protect  those  who  were  known  to 
be  attached  to  her. 

Yet,  surrounded  as  she  was  by  malignity, 
treachery,  and  vice,  it  is  a  strange  testimony 
to  the  power  of  conscience  enforcing  homage 
to  virtuous  life,  that  calumny  never  dared 
assail  her  purity. 

Once  we  hear  that,  ever  vehement,  and  then 
in  a  flame  on  account  of  the  peril  of  her  kins- 
woman Claudia  Pulchra,  she  rushed  unbidden 
into  the  Emperor's  presence  when  he  hap- 
pened to  be  sacrificing  to  the  deified  Augus- 
tus. 

12* 


274        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  Vain  it  is,"  she  said,  "  to  offer  victims  to 
the  divine  Augustus,  and  to  ill-treat  his  chil- 
dren. Not  into  those  dumb  effigies  is  the 
divine  spirit  transfused.  See  before  you  his 
true  image,  sprung  from  his  celestial  blood, 
living  to  understand  and  to  suffer,  a  suppliant 
low  at  your  feet."  For  her  sake,  she  said, 
Pulchra  was  attacked ;  for  loving  her  almost 
to  adoration,  forgetful  of  what  others  had  suf- 
fered for  the  same  crime. 

The  sudden  outburst  for  once  startled  the 
bitter  dread  and  jealousy  of  the  cautious 
Emperor  from  its  hiding-place  into  voice  and 
daylight. 

"  It  was  no  wrong  to  her,"  he  said,  quoting 
a  Greek  verse,  "that  she  did  not  reign." 

And  from  that  time,  it  is  said,  he  never 
risked  another  conversation  with  her. 

So  she  lived  on  through  weary  year  after 
year,  under  the  roof  of  a  man  who  seems  to 
have  looked  on  her  as  a  kind  of  embodiment 
of  the  hatred  of  the  Roman  people  for  him- 
self, of  that  wolf  which,  all  his  life  through, 
he  held  with  trembling  hands  by  the  ears. 

The  traitors  who  embittered  the  Emperor's 
suspicions  against  her,  at  the  same  time  in- 
stilled into  her  open  and  unsuspicious  nature 
dark  fears  of  him. 

Not  in  Antioch  or  Epidaphne  only,  it  was 
suggested,  could  the  Emperor  find  poisoners 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        275 

and  poisons  to  deliver  him  from  too  popular 
guests  and  kinsfolk. 

The  last  glimpse  we  have  of  her  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Tiberius,  is  sitting  at  his  table  speech- 
less and  motionless,  refusing  to  touch  any  of 
the  viands  there ;  until  at  length  the  Emperor 
himself  presented  some  apples  to  her  with  his 
own  hand,  when  (acting,  according  to  her 
wont,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment)  she 
handed  the  fruit  untasted  to  her  servants. 

The  large  keen  eyes  of  the  Emperor  coolly 
observed  the  action,  so  significant  to  all  pres- 
ent. He  made  no  open  comment,  but  turning 
to  the  Empress-mother,  who  reclined  at  the 
table  near  him,  he  said,  "  It  could  be  no  won- 
der if  he  dealt  more  severely  with  one  who 
pretended  to  believe  him  a  poisoner." 

Whereupon  throughout  the  city  the  rumor 
spread  that  "  her  departure  from  the  world 
was  fixed  ;  it  would  not  be  dared  publicly,  but 
some  secret  method  would  be  found." 

It  seems,  nevertheless,  as  if  she  honestly 
tried  to  fulfil  the  command  of  her  husband. 

She  made  no  melodramatic  display  of  her 
wrongs ;  all  the  ingenious  endeavors  of  pre- 
tended friends  to  induce  her  to  make  a  public 
appeal  to  the  people,  to  embrace  the  statue  of 
her  forefather,  the  deified  Augustus,  before 
the  multitudes  in  the  Forum,  and  so  claim  the 
protection  of  the  Senate  and  the  people,  failed. 


276        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Perhaps,  with  her  true  and  intense  character, 
she  knew  too  well  what  a  shadow  the  Roman 
Senate  and  people  had  become. 

Nor  would  she  fly,  as  she  was  falsely  coun- 
selled, to  the  armies  in  Germany,  the  scene  of 
her  heroic  actions  in  her  happy  days,  and  cast 
herself  and  her  children  on  the  generosity 
of  the  army  her  husband  had  commanded. 
Probably  she  had  also  learned  how  a  few 
years,  in  the  ceaseless  flowing  away  of  life, 
suffice  to  change  a  body  of  men  bearing  the 
same  name ;  how  "  we  step  into  the  same 
rivers,  and  do  not  step  into  them."  The  vet- 
erans who  had  pressed  the  hands  of  her  hus- 
band on  their  toothless  gums,  and  opened  the 
scars  of  unjust  wounds  to  his  ey^es,  to  show 
how  long  and  hard  had  been  their  service,  had 
passed  beyond  earthly  reward.  The  legions 
whom  she  had  rescued  on  that  further  bank 
of  the  Rhine,  standing  on  the  post  of  danger 
by  the  bridge  she  had  saved  to  welcome 
them,  were  no  longer  there  except  in  name. 
The  men  who  had  composed  them,  who  had 
gloried  in  her  husband's  courage  and  majestic 
bearing,  whose  wounds  she  had  cared  for,  to 
whom  with  her  own  hands  she  had  given  food 
and  clothing,  were  scattered  throughout  the 
empire,  in  Egypt,  Syria,  Gaul,  or  Mauritania. 

There  was  no  refuge  for  her  on  earth. 

The   god   of  the    Roman   earth,  in  whose 


VICTORY  OF  TEE   VANQUISHED.         277 

august  presence  she  lived,  who  had  at  length 
permitted  a  temple  to  be  erected  to  him  at 
Sm}^rna  (reluctantly  according  this  grace  to 
Smyrna  in  preference  to  twelve  Asiatic  cities 
who  supplicated  for  the  honor),  was  no  "  un- 
known god  "  to  her. 

Living  under  the  shadow  of  his  angry  and 
averted  countenance  so  many  solitary  years, 
she  found  that  his  departure  to  Capreae  brought 
no  lessening  of  the  shadow  to  her. 

Seven  years  after  the  death  of  Germani- 
cus  (A.  D.  25),  Tiberius  left  his  palace  on  the 
Palatine,  and  Rome  itself,  never  to  enter  it 
again. 

Three  years  after  this  the  Empress-mother 
died.  With  her  fell  the  last  shelter  of  Agrip- 
pina  and  her  children.  The  habitual  deference 
to  his  mother's  wishes  buried  with  her,  the 
Emperor  was  left  without  human  relationship 
to  restrain  him,  as  he  had  long  been  without 
one  human  affection  to  ennoble  him. 

In  a  brief  time  after  the  Empress'  funeral, 
which  her  son  did  not  attend,  the  servile  Sen- 
ate was  thrown  into  perplexity  by  a  letter 
from  the  Emperor,  accusing  Agrippina  and 
her  favorite  son  Nero  as  persons  dangerous 
to  the  State. 

Still,  "  a  haughty  countenance  and  an  un- 
conquerable spirit"  were  all  the  accusations 
he  dared  bring  against  the  widowed  princess. 


278        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Worse  than  this,  while  she  lived,  he  never 
dare  say  of  her. 

Once  more  the  people,  moved  with  a 
generous  impulse,  besieged  the  Senate  with 
appeals  for  the  wife  and  children  of  the  young 
prince  they  had  loved  and  mourned.  They 
bore  the  images  of  Agrippina  and  her  son  to 
the  Senate.  "  The  letters  from  Tiberius  were 
forged  !"  they  cried.  "  The  prince  would  never 
thus  plot  the  ruin  of  his  house !" 

But  from  the  twelve  villas  on  the  island  of 
Capreas,  from  that  infamous  seclusion  to  which 
the  god  of  Rome  had  withdrawn  himself,  came 
a  repetition  of  the  accusations,  and  a  rebuke 
to  the  people  and  the  Senate. 

Such  a  voice  from  amidst  the  thunders, 
neither  people  nor  Senate  dared  resist. 

The  young  princes  were  imprisoned.  And 
the  mother  was  banished  to  the  island  of  Pan- 
dataria,  the  convict  settlement  of  the  empire 
for  dangerous  and  illustrious  criminals. 

This  was  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  30. 

The  slow  years  were  wearing  on.  Eleven 
had  separated  Agrippina  from  Germanicus. 
Three  more,  and  the  "  haughty  countenance 
and  unconquerable  spirit "  would  affront  the 
Emperor  no  more. 

Wearily  meanwhile  had  these  years  passed 
for  Siguna  the  German  captive,  seeing  around 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         2?g 

her  so  much  wrong  that  she  could  not  redress, 
so  much  sorrow  that  she  could  not  comfort, 
with  the  longing  of  her  heart — to  return  to 
her  country  and  search  for  Olave — unfulfilled. 

Vainly  had  she  sought  tidings  from  band 
after  band  of  Northern  captives  brought  to 
Rome  after  the  suppression  by  Silius  of  the 
revolt  in  Gaul.  Her  very  fidelity  had  delayed 
her  liberation,  by  making  her  services  indis- 
pensable. Still  that  purpose  was  before  her, 
to  be  accomplished  with  the  first  breath  of 
freedom. 

In  her  appearance  those  ten  years  had 
wrought  little  change.  The  golden  threads 
of  the  hair  had  turned  to  silver.  The  wistful 
sadness  had  deepened  in  the  soft  blue  eyes, 
and  tears  had  dimmed  them.  But  she  was 
still  the  same  fair,  tall,  erect,  matronly  woman, 
with  the  welcoming  motherly  look  in  her  eyes 
which  drew  the  little  children  to  her,  as  if  they 
felt  near  her  the  soft  brooding  of  enfolding 
wings. 

On  Clcelia  Diodora  also  years  had  made 
little  outward  alteration. 

The  old  anxious  look,  which  had  been  so 
painful  on  the  childish  face,  no  longer  seemed 
so  unnatural.  The  depth  of  the  large  thought- 
ful eyes  had  lost  something  of  that  weird,  be- 
wildered, preternatural  wonder,  as  of  an  ex- 
iled spirit,  never  to  be  naturalized  on  earth ; 


28o         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

partly  because  the  anxiety  had  been  turned 
into  a  natural  channel  through  her  love  and 
solicitude  for  her  sister. 

For  on  Clcelia  Pulchra  these  years  had 
wrought  a  marked  and  mournful  change.  She 
had  passed  from  the  second  decade  of  her 
Vestal  life  to  the  third,  from  the  years  of  more 
active  service  to  those  of  instruction.  The 
aged  "  Occia,  who  had  for  seven-and-fifty 
years  presided  over  the  Vestals  with  the 
greatest  sanctity,"  had  passed  from  among 
them.  Those  who  had  welcomed  Clcelia 
Pulchra  as  a  little  child,  and  called  her  "Fair," 
and  cherished  and  taught  her,  were  fast  glid- 
ing into  decline.  She  had  come  to  the  prosaic 
levels  of  middle-age — into  the  disenchantment 
of  its  colorless  daylight,  while  still  a  long  pos- 
sible tract  of  weary  years  lay  before  her.  At 
seven-and-twenty  Clcelia  the  Vestal  felt  as  if 
a  whole  life  lay  behind  her,  and  before  her 
another  life  as  long,  with  no  change  to  break 
and  no  interests  to  fill  it. 

Patiently  she  still  went  about  her  daily 
ministries  in  the  temple.  But  the  roof  of  the 
world  had  become  lower  and  narrower  to  her 
year  by  year.  The  Rome  where  Tiberius 
reigned,  and  the  Senate  and  people  which 
could  rise  with  womanish  shrieks  of  entreaty 
for  Agrippina's  rescue,  and  yet  let  her  perish, 
and  abjectly  supplicate  her  oppressor  to  be 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         28 1 

permitted  to  worship  him,  the  people  one  of 
whose  chief  reproaches  against  the  Emperor 
was  that  he  was  too  " morose"  to  delight 
sufficiently  in  the  slaughter  and  torture  of  the 
gladiatorial  games,  was  scarcely  a  satisfactory 
Patria  for  which  to  sacrifice  youth  and  beauty 
and  life. 

Was  it  for  this  the  waters  had  been  kept 
fresh  and  pure  beneath  the  rock-arches  of  the 
Alban  hills  ? — to  be  poured  on  such  a  barren 
waste  of  irremediable  corruption  as  this  ? 

And,  more  terrible  still,  with  the  continued 
disenchantment  of  earth  came  deeper  doubts 
as  to  heaven. 

What  was  to  assure  her  that  those  stars  she 
had  once  fondly  thought  of  as  dim  hearth-fires, 
heavenly  Vestal  shrines,  were  not  fed  by  hands 
as  weary,  for  ends  as  vain,  as  this  altar  she 
tended  on  earth?  What  was  to  assure  her 
that  they  were  hearth-fires  at  all ;  that  there 
was  any  focus,  any  living  hearth,  any  loving 
heart  at  the  core  of  the  world ;  that  the  uni- 
verse was  not  as  Rome,  governed  by  a  Power 
which  scorned  love,  and  cared  not  for  homage, 
and  knew  not  pity — a  clear,  passionless  brain, 
which  subdued  mutinies,  and  saw  through  all 
shows,  itself  included,  and  doled  out  daily 
doles  of  corn  to  a  pauper  world,  and  was 
moved  by  nothing,  unless  by  envy  of  anything 
too  high,  and  fear  of  anything  too  strong  ?  If, 


282         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

indeed,  these  darker  tales  of  foul  deeds,  on 
Olympus  and  on  Caprese,  were  the  inventions 
of  a  depraved  age  ! 

What  was  to  assure  her  that  even  a  brain, 
even  clear,  passionless  intelligence,  was  at  the 
core  of  the  world,  and  not  merely  clear,  im- 
passive Fire,  mighty  to  warm  and  to  quicken, 
or  to  scorch  and  consume,  entirely  indifferent 
and  unconscious  which  it  accomplished  ?  As 
the  fire  she  tended  was  unconscious  whether 
it  cooked  a  beggar's  onions,  or  glowed  on  the 
sacred  shrine  of  Vesta,  or  burned  down,  as  it 
had  lately  done,  a  hundred  houses  on  the 
Ccelian  Hill. 

Thus  the  hopeful,  upward  look  passed  from 
Clcelia  Pulchra's  eyes,  and  the  calm,  joyous 
light  from  her  brow,  and  the  buoyancy  from 
her  step. 

The  faultless  beauty  of  her  features  re- 
mained, and  the  dignity  of  her  bearing,  but 
there  was  nothing  to  indicate  the  enthusiasm 
of  her  early  days,  when  patriotism  had  been 
to  her  a  passion,  and  religion  a  fervent  flaming 
up  of  her  whole  being.  Illusions  had  van- 
ished ;  and  no  sweet  glow  of  human  affection, 
no  high  realities  of  divine  love,  replaced  them. 
The  glow,  the  warmth  were  gone ;  and,  in 
consequence,  the  purity  seemed  the  mere  in- 
evitable whiteness  and  changelessness  of  a 
marble  statue. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         283 

Except  to  Clcelia  Diodora,  her  sister.  With 
her  the  old  life  of  tender  protecting  affection 
flowed  on,  so  that  the  deformed  girl  still  saw 
in  her  the  beautiful  fervent  being  who  had 
been  the  adoration  of  her  childhood,  only 
dearer  by  a  deepened  pity  for  the  sorrows  of 
the  world,  and  by  the  deepening  shadow  of 
the  years  which  the  poor  girl  felt  too  plainly 
were  bearing  them  on  to  separation  and 
death. 

The  old  home  of  her  house  had  been  destroy- 
ed in  the  great  fire  which  laid  the  Coslian  waste. 
Her  parents  had  died,  and  the  orphan  girl 
now  lived  in  a  room  near  the  temple,  on  a 
pension  given  to  her,  among  other  noble 
maidens,  by  the  bounty  of  the  Empress- 
mother. 

From  time  to  time  tidings  and  fatherly 
messages  had  come  from  Laon,  with  gifts. 
But  he  knew  the  sisters  would  never  endure 
to  be  separated,  and  as  yet  his  workshop  had 
not  so  prospered  as  to  permit  his  returning  to 
live  at  Rome,  near  his  foster-child. 

With  Sigunathe  sisters  kept  up  an  affection- 
ate intercourse. 

And  it  was  a  further  narrowing  and  chilling 
of  their  small  world  of  affection,  when  at  last 
the  breaking  up  of  the  persecuted  Princess 
Agrippina's  household  set  the  German  captive 
free  to  go  on  that  quest  in  the  far  North  which 


284        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

seemed  to  the  Roman  sisters  wild  and  ad- 
venturous and  shadowy  as  the  descent  of  the 
pious  ^Eneas  among  the  unsubstantial  shades 
of  the  under-world. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


T  Antioch,  with  Siward  and  Hilda, 
these  ten  years  had  been  years  not 
of  fading  but  of  unfolding :  with  Si- 
ward  from  youth  to  manhood,  from 
visions  into  steady  work  of  preparation ;  with 
Hilda  from  the  child's  dream  of  the  world 
within  the  folded  blossom,  to  the  flower  open- 
ing in  a  world  of  sunshine. 

At  first,  when  the  tidings  of  the  death  of 
Herman  reached  Siward,  it  was  to  him  as  if 
the  whole  world  had  shrunk  and,  shrivelled 
together,  so  hopeless  seemed  the  liberation 
without-  the  Liberator,  —  the  freedom  of  a 
people  who  had  assassinated  him  who  would 
have  set  them  free. 

Unconsciously  to  himself,  the  Law  and 
Order  of  the  Roman  world  had  become  part 
of  his  being,  and  he  felt  freedom  without  obe- 
dience to  be  as  impossible  as  a  building  with- 
out architectural  lines, — that  is,  all  liberty 
worth  the  name ;  living  freedom,  freedom  for 


286        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

men,  freedom  for  a  nation,  freedom  to  build 
and  grow ;  any  freedom  but  a  wild  beast's 
freedom,  to  roam  where  it  liked,  and  destroy 
what  it  pleased  ;  any  freedom  but  that  of  death, 
free  to  dissolve  into  its  component  atoms. 

By  degrees,  however,  other  purposes  for 
his  people  sprang  up  again,  and  gave  interest 
to  his  life.  He  thought  the  time  might  come 
when  he  himself  might  go  back  and  give  to 
his  race  something  of  what  old  Laon  and  the 
Romans  had  given  to  him.  Although  he 
could  not  have  expressed  it,  he  felt  that  in 
every  way  the  Romans  must  be  conquered  by 
their  own  weapons ;  not  by  spears  and  swords 
only,  tempered  as  Roman  smiths  could  tem- 
per them,  but  by  Roman  law  and  endurance, 
and  knowledge,  and  union. 

Meantime  he  was  working  out  freedom  for 
himself  and  for  Hilda.  For  Hilda  first.  He 
would  not  have  his  sister  married  until  she 
was  a  freewoman  ;  nor  would  he  have  her 
owe  her  freedom  to  her  betrothed.  And 
Onias  was  not  altogether  an  easy  proprietor 
to  purchase  from.  Again  and  again  his  price 
for  freedom  rose  as  it  drew  near,  by  his  find- 
ing some  entangled  interpretations  of  the 
original  agreement ;  until  the  patience  of 
Callias  was  exhausted,  and  he  and  Laon  to- 
gether insisted  on  definite  contract  being 
made. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         287 

Meantime,  under  the  fretting  of  these  petty 
injustices,  the  attractions  which  Siward  had 
at  first  felt  to  the  religion  of  the  Hebrews  lost 
all  its  power.  It  sank  in  his  mind  to  a  level 
with  the  other  religions  of  the  world. 

Afar  off,  on  an  Olympus,  an  Asgard,  or  a 
Sinai,  among  lightnings  and  thunders,  very 
powerful  in  the  past,  powerful  now  also,  but 
apparently  not  discriminating,  he  saw  a 
shadowy  supreme  authority ;  whether  resid- 
ing in  a  Sovereign  or  in  a  Council,  perhaps 
mattered  little  ;  since  long  ago  the  executive 
had  devolved  on  minor  divinities,  close  at 
hand,  tangible  and  efficient.  This  supreme 
authority  towered  in  isolated  pomp,  to  be 
done  homage  to  on  certain  court  days, 
whether  one  in  seven,  or  one  in  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five,  did  not  seem  to  Siward  ma- 
terial ;  the  real  worship  being  rendered  sedu- 
lously, the  real  prayer  and  service  offered 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  to  the  power  which 
could  procure  the  good  desired,  whether 
Tiberius  Caesar  or  the  Mint-goddess,  under 
her  countless  forms. 

The  religion  of  Esther,  on  the  other  hand, 
seemed  to  him  like  the  religion  of  his  mother, 
of  Clcelia  the  Vestal,  and  of  other  good  wo- 
men. Pure  flames  of  aspiration  ascending 
from  pure  hearts,  through  pure  ether  — 
whither,  ah,  whither !  who  could  tell ! 


288        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Underneath  all  the  open-air  worship,  the 
fair  temples,  and  the  sunny  heights,  moreover, 
he  traced  everywhere  that  ancient  worship 
of  the  Eumenides ;  the  dark  cavern  of  consci- 
ence and  the  sanctuary  of  avenging  justice. 

With  the  Jewish  religion,  the  great  Jewish 
Hope  of  a  Deliverer,  which  at  first  had  seemed 
to  Siward  so  glorious,  also  ceased  to  interest 
him.  What  could  patriotism  be  to  such  as 
Onias,  but  selfishness  expanded  ?  What  could 
such  a  hope  be,  but  this  selfish  patriotism 
projected  into  the  future  ?.  What  could  a 
Jewish  anointed  King  be,  but  a  King  of  Jews, 
an  universal  Emperor  enthroned  beside  a  city 
Jerusalem,  and  crushing  all  other  nations 
under  Jewish  feet,  as  the  deified  Augustus 
crushed  all  the  world  under  the  feet  of  vic- 
torious Romans  ! 

The  legend,  with  its  golden  future,  was 
beautiful,  no  doubt,  transfigured  through  the 
hearts  of  women  like  Esther,  and  shed  a  love- 
ly morning  light  over  them,  more  inspiring, 
perhaps,  though  not  more  beautiful  and  ten- 
der, than  the  lingering  sunset  tints  of  an  ideal 
Patria  in  the  past  which  glowed  around  Cloelia 
Pulchra. 

On  little  Hilda,  meantime,  bond-service 
weighed  lightly, — mere  ballast  to  make  her 
course  surer  and  her  poise  steadier. 

In  Esther's   presence  there  was  a  stillness 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         289 

and  a  peace  in  which  the  earnest  yet  joyous 
nature  of  the  German  maiden  grew  symmetri- 
cal and  strong. 

A  gentle  hand  came  between  her  and  every- 
thing that  could  have  chafed.  Pride  had?  little 
place  in  Esther's  heart,  and  therefore  sorrow 
found  only  her  softer  work  to'  do  there.  Her 
presence  warmed  and  lighted  a  little  sphere 
of  purity  and  peace  around  her,  and  in  the 
heart  of  it  the  little  German  maiden  grew  up, 
in  the  seclusion  of  that  Oriental  home,  with 
as  little  contact  with  the  brilliant,  corrupt 
world  of  Antioch  around  her,  as  if  Antioch 
had  been  the  wild  Syrian  hills,  and  she  a 
patriarchal  maiden  keeping  her  father's  sheep 
by  sweet,  fresh  springs,  among  the  green  pas- 
tures of  tender  grass  and  the  waters  of  rest. 

The  sadness  of  Esther's  own  life  fell  but  as  a 
sacred,  calming  quiet  around  the  child  ;  whilst 
the  seclusion  of  the  Jewish  home  was  kept 
from  being  a  narrowing  isolation  for  Hilda  by 
three  inlets  and  outlets  between  her  little 
world  and  the  great  world  beyond. 

One  was  a  gateway  into  the  Past,  into  green 
forest-paths,  gladdened  and  hallowed  by  the 
voice  of  her  mother.  Another  into  the 
Future,  a  threshold  which  she  was  soon  to 
cross.-  And  through  this  came  shining 
glimpses  of  sweet  hope,  and  visions  of  beauty 
from  Callias's  Greek  world  of  art.  The  third 
13 


290        VICTORY  OF 'THE  VANQUISHED. 

was  the  upward  openirtg,  like  that  in  the 
heart  of  every  Roman  house,  unroofed,  open 
to  the  sky,  through  which  the  dews  and  rains 
showered  into  the  impluvium,  and  the  flames 
went  up  from  the  hearth-altar,  and  the  soul 
went  up  to  the  stars  which  crossed  it  solemnly 
at  night ; — went  up  through  that  night  which 
Esther  had  taught  her  was  no  darkness  to 
One  above ;  and  beyond  the  night,  through 
the  stars  which  were  as  the  golden  sands  of 
His  heavenly  shores,  yet  which  he  called  by 
name,  to  him  whose  name  was  not  the  Thun- 
derer, or  the  Sun-god,  or  only  the  Almighty 
or  the  Beautiful,  but  "  the  Lord  God,  merci- 
ful and  gracious,  long-suffering,  and  abundant 
in  goodness  and  truth,  keeping  mercy  for 
thousands;  forgiving  iniquity  and  transgres- 
sion and  sin,  and  that  will  by  no  means  clear 
the  guilty." 

Little  Hilda  was  drinking  into  her  inmost 
spirit  that  glorious  name  of  God,  for  the  pre- 
servation of  which  the  Jewish  nation  existed  ; 
a  vine,  a  life-tree  in  the  world, — until  that 
name  should  be  manifested  in  One  born  of 
Jewish  race,  the  True  Vine  and  Life-Tree  for 
all  the  world  ;  until  the  mystic  bud  which  en- 
folded the  hidden  treasure  should  expand 
into  the  Fruit  for  the  healing  of  nations,  the 
Bread  of  Life  for  mankind. 

In  vain  old    Laon    warned  Callias   against 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         2gi 

the  peril  of  suffering  his  bride  to  be  "  fettered 
in  the  iron  bondage  of  the  Jewish  super- 
stition." 

To  Callias  it  was,  as  received  by  Esther 
and  Hilda,  only  one  of  the  countless  forms  of 
the  Beautiful. 

"  They  have  lovely  legends  of  good  wo- 
men," he  said,  "  these  Jews  ;  and  magnificent 
traditions  of  heroic  women  ;  as  fine  as  any  of 
old  Rome  —  chieftainesses,  princesses,  Ama- 
zons who  had  rescued  their  nation ;  grand, 
fearless  heroines,  with  eyes  like  lightning,  and 
brows  like  Hermon.  But  Esther  and  little 
Hilda  are  not  of  that  type.  There  is  a  story 
of  two  women  who  loved  each  other,  just  as 
Esther  and  Hilda  do  —  a  sorrowful  Naomi, 
and  a  young  fair  Ruth,  strong  and  patient  as 
any  of  the  Amazons,  but  all  her  strength  the 
strength  of  faithful  affection  and  tender  piety. 
A  Gentile*  too"  she  was,  this  sweet  Ruth,  like 
Hilda,  yet  enshrined  in  the  heart  of  their  old 
national  books.  Then  there  is  a  Hannah,  a 
mother  ;  and  a  Queen  Esther  saving  her  peo- 
ple by  her  beauty,  her  loyalty  and  her  prayers. 
Beautiful,  chaste  old  legends.  I  wish  nothing 
better  for  my  Hilda  than  to  grow  up  steeped 
in  their  fresh  air  and  pure,  soft  light." 

"  Boy  !  boy  ! — dreamer !"  Laon  would  reply, 
"  you  talk  as  if  everything  were  a  dream  to 
every  one.  I  tell  thee,  these  soft  Jewish  wo- 


292        VICTORY  OF  TH7S   VANQUISHED. 

men  have  a  religion  against  which  you  may 
break  your  will  and 'break  their  hearts,  but 
you  will  never  uproot  it.  Wife,  children, 
husband, — they  will  sacrifice  all  for  this  super- 
stition of  their  God,  and  of  their  people." 

"  But  Hilda  is  not  of  their  race,"  Callias 
replied.  "  She  takes  all  the  beauty,  and  leaves 
out  the  severity.  To  her  this  faith  is  no  rigid 
armour.  It  is  a  lovely  vesture  of  fine  linen, 
white  and  glistering.  The  Jews  may  be 
bigots,  and  eaten  up  with  national  pride,  but 
their  proselytes  take  their  good  doctrine,  and 
happily  can  have  no  share  in  the  national 
pride.  If  it  were  not  for  their  uncivilized  ob- 
jection to  human  statues,"  he  added,  fervently, 
"  I  should  have  a  great  inclination  to  claim 
instruction  and  be  a  proselyte  myself." 

So  Hilda  continued  to  attend  the  synagogue 
with  Esther.  She  learned  to  watch  until  the 
three  stars  which  marked  the  Sabbath  de- 
tached themselves  from  the  fading  daylight, 
and  the  sacred  day  of  rest  had  begun,  and  to 
welcome  them  with  delight,  like  lamps  lighted 
for  a  festival.  The  mere  sound  of  many 
voices  in  the  synagogue,  the  mere  presence 
of  numbers,  made  a  holiday  in  her  secluded 
life.  Then  there  was  the  reading  of  sacred 
words,  which  Esther  explained  to  her  :  and 
the  chanting  of  the  ancient  liturgy  ;  and  then 
the  long  leisure  in  the  quiet  house  or  under 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         293 

the  shadow  of  figs  and  trellised  vines  in  the 
court,  which  left  room  for  so  much  sweet  talk 
with  Esther,  and  so  many  happy  visions  of  her 
own  ; — she  as  a  Gentile  being,  moreover,, per- 
mitted a  freer  use  of  her  busy,  serviceable 
hands  than  was  considered  lawful  for  a  Jewess 
in  the  various  loving  ministries  to  the  many 
"  hungry,"  to  whom  Esther  made  the  Sabbath 
a  delight,  by  dealing  out  bread  and  raiment, 
and  gathering  them  to  her  home. 

To  this  bounty  Onias  did  not  object.  Giv- 
ing alms  was  a  part  of  his  religion.  On  this 
point  the  letter  of  the  law  was  plain,  and  the 
meaning  of  the  law  and  the  prophets  legible  ; 
as  plain  and  as  legible  as  the  rules  and  threats 
concerning  the  keeping  of  the  Sabbath. 

There  were  threats,  and  there  were  robbers 
capable  of  being  mysteriously  commissioned 
to  execute  these  threats,  between  Jerusalem 
and  Jericho. 

Moreover  there  were  promises.  The  Hand 
which  made  Araham  "very  rich"  in  servants 
and  in  cattle,  could  in  these  latter  days  make 
Abraham's  faithful  children  rich  in  Roman 
coin. 

To  set  a  portion  of  property  rigidly  apart 
for  the  Unnam cable  was  as  much  a  part  of  the 
contract  between  Him  and  Israel,  as  to  set 
apart  a  portion  of  time.  The  quantity  of  both 
which  He  demanded  was  quite  definitely  fix- 


291        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

ed  ;  and  it  was  dangerous  to  trifle  with  those 
celestial  accounts.  The  tithe  of  mint  and 
anise,  and  the  seventh  of  the  measured  min- 
utes of  life,  must  by  no  means  fail.  It  was 
probable  that  the  tenth  would  be  made  up  in 
good  Gentile  coin,  and  the  seventh  in  length 
of  days.  It  was  possible  even  that  it  might 
be  paid  in  good  measure,  one  of  the  contract- 
ing parties  being  in  some  sublime  and  relig- 
ious sense  possessor  of  heaven  and  earth. 
"Job  had  twice  as  much"  given  back.  Heze- 
kiah's  days  were  stretched  out  fifteen  years. 

Therefore  Onias,  with  that  true  self-interest 
and  far-seeing  prudence  which  are  the  change- 
less principles  of  Pharisaical  religion,  encour- 
aged Esther  in  her  benefaction  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  synagogue  ;  being  only  perplexed 
as  to  the  amount,  by  the  conflict  between  the 
pleasures  of  popularity  and  the  perils  of  being 
thought  rich. 

The  day  of  Hilda's  marriage  came.  Along 
the  streets  and  through  the  gardens  of  Anti- 
och  the  young  bride  was  led  to  her  new  home 
with  the  lamps  of  the  Virgins,  the  bridal  songs, 
and  all  the  festive  procession  which  have  be- 
come to  us  familiar  and  sacred  parables  from 
childhood. 

Onias  stroked  his  beard  at  the  close  of  the 
day  in  a  comfortable  little  glow  of  benevolent 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        295 

complacency.  He  had  suffered  Esther  to  be- 
stow suitable  raiment  on  the  portionless  maid- 
en, and  had  even  with  some  little  reluctance 
seen  certain  gold  and  silver  coins  transferred 
from  Esther's  own  dark  tresses  to  the  fair  hair 
of  the  German  bride. 

Moreover,  was  not  his  taking  a  ransom  at 
all  an  act  of  grace  ?  There  was  no  command 
that  he  knew  in  Leviticus  about  a  jubilee,  or 
a  sabbatical  year  of  liberation  for  Gentile 
slaves.  Or,  at  all  events,  no  stipulation  as  to 
price.  And  Hilda's  services  were  becoming 
more  valuable  every  year. 

He  felt  he  had  really  gone  beyond  the  letter 
of  the  law,  and  done  an  action  worthy  of  be- 
ing recorded  by  the  prophets. 

In  this  sense  of  virtue  his  heart  felt  alto- 
gether so  expansive,  that  he  said  in  the  even- 
ing to  Siward, — 

"  One  day,  my  son,  I  shall  perhaps  be  able 
to  grant  you  also  your  emancipation  !" 

"  Fix  the  price  now,  then,"  said  Siward,  ab- 
ruptly and  concisely. 

"Now,  my  son!  —  now!  Scarcely  a  day 
this  for  bargains.  We  have  given  it  to  festiv- 
ity. I  have  the  kindliest  feelings  towards  you 
and  your  sister.  Did  you  see  the  gold  brace- 
let on  her  wrist  ?  I  gave  it  myself  to  Esther 
long  ago.  This  is  a  day  for  gifts,  not  for  busi- 
ness." 


296         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Siward's  spirit  rose.  He  had  purchased  his 
sister's  freedom  at  the  hard  price  of  years  of 
his  own ;  literally  with  a  large  piece  of  his 
own  life.  To  her,  by  patient,  generous  toil, 
he  had  opened  home,  love,  and  liberty.  Be- 
fore him  lay  years  of  bondage,  petty  injustice, 
and  all  the  terrible  possibilities  which  were 
included  in  the  slavery  of  those  days  ;  the 
yoke,  the  scourge,  the  cross. 

He  could  not  brook  that  what  he  had  pur- 
chased literally  by  giving  himself,  should  be 
spoken  of  as  a  gift  from  another. 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  give  me  alms.  I  ask 
you  to  do  justly,"  he  said.  "  Call  in  fair 
judges,  fix  the  price  of  my  freedom,  and  take 
back  your  wedding  gifts  without  counting 
them  as  part  of  it." 

But  to  the  Pharisee  to  give  alms  was  far 
easier  than  to  do  justly.  Alms  were  a  definite 
quantity  which  could  be  set  apart  out  of  the 
interest  of  money  and  the  profits  of  business, 
and  leave  the  whole  untouched.  Justice  was 
a  large  word — a  text  capable  of  many  perplex- 
ing interpretations.  In  the  highest  sense  it 
might  involve  sacrifices  which  would  even  in- 
terfere with  capital,  the  sacred  treasure  of  the 
Mint-goddess  itself. 

"  Do  justly  !"  he  said  angrily  ;  "  do  justly  ! 
That  is  a  fitting  Gentile  return  for  generosity 
like  mine.  I  give  freely  like  a  prince,  and 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        297 

you  call  on  me  to  do  justly,  as  if  I  were  a 
thief." 

"  My  sister  shall  never  be  fettered  by  your 
gifts,"  said  Siward  hotly.  "  To-morrow  you 
may  count  your  bracelet  again  among  your 
treasures." 

But  Esther  had  crept  beside  them  while 
they  were  speaking,  and  now  she  laid  one 
hand  gently  on  her  husband's  arm,  and  one 
on  Siward's  hand. 

"  It  was  my  bracelet,  Siward,"  she  said, 
deprecatingly,  "and  my  gift  to  the  child  I 
love.  Let  her  keep  it.  It  is  hard  enough  to 
part  from  her.  Do  not  rob  me  of  the  delight 
of  serving  her.  And,  believe  me,  Onias  will 
do  justly  by  thee,"  she  added  to  Siward.  "  He 
means  it.  It  is  written  in  our  law.  To-mor- 
row the  contract  shall  be  made  for  your  ran- 
som. And,  believe  me,  he  will  never  wish  to 
break  it.  For  whom  should  we  spare  and 
toil  and  hoard  ?  What  has  this  life  to  offer  us 
that  we  should  dare  to  offend  against  our 
God?" 

Her  eyes  shone  with  a  deep  glow  which 
would  have  made  Callias  think  rather  of  the 
inspired  prophetesses  than  of  the  meek  Han- 
nahs or  Ruths  of  her  race. 

But  she  had  touched  a  chord  which,  while 
it  vibrated  in  agony  through  her  own  heart, 
smote  on  the  conscience  of  her  husband  with 
13* 


298        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

a  power  he  dared  not  resist.  She  had  associ- 
ated herself  with  him  in  the  responsibility  and 
the  peril. 

And  with  trembling  hands  the  next  day  he 
signed  a  contract,  binding  himself  irrevocably 
to  accept  a  certain  ransom  for  Siward,  when- 
ever paid. 

It  was  not  an  easy  sum  for  Siward  to  earn, 
the  greater  portion  of  his  toil  having  mean- 
time to  be  exclusively  for  Onias.  Yet  from 
that  day  the  weight  of  bondage  passed  from 
Siward's  heart. 

He  saw  before  him  freedom,  with  its  noble, 
liberating  work  for  his  people ;  and  between 
him  and  it  nothing  but  the  endurance  of  his 
own  brave  heart,  and  the  toil  of  his  own 
strong  arm. 

Once  more  he  felt  a  man,  not  a  chattel.  In 
this  new  hope  of  freedom,  it  became  once 
more  almost  credible  to  him  that  there  might 
be  a  free,  living  God,  such  as  Esther  believed 
in,  and  a  Hope  for  Israel  and  for  man,  such  as 
she  had  taught  Hilda  to' cherish. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


GRIPPINA  had  entered  (A.D.  30)  on 
the  last  fatal  period  of  her  years  of 
bereavement,  the  three  years  of  her 
banishment  in  the  island  of  Panda- 
taria.  Those  three  years  were  spent  by  Tibe- 
rius in  voluntary  exile  from  the  Rome  he 
ruled  and  dreaded,  among  the  twelve  villas 
of  the  island  of  Capreas ;  in  such  a  paradise 
as  men  have  constructed  for  themselves  when 
they  have  determined  to  set  at  nought  all  the 
flaming  swords  of  Divine  law,  to  evade  all  the 
toil  and  travail  and  "  sweat  of  the  brow,"  and 
make  an  enchanted  garden,  full  of  all  things 
pleasant  to  the  eye  and  good  for  food,  in  the 
land  of  thorns  and  thistles,  with  themselves 
in  the  midst  thereof,  as  gods,  "  knowing  good 
and  evil." 

Those  three  years  which,  in  Syna,  in  the 
wilderness  of  Temptation,  on  the  Mount  of 


300        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Transfiguration,  among  the  streets  and  hill- 
sides of  Galilee  and  Judsea,  were  spent  in  re- 
gaining Paradise  for  man,  by  restoring  man 
to  God. 

-x-  -*  -x-  *  #  # 

At  last  the  three  years  of  Agrippina's  exile 
were  drawing  near  their  close  (A.  D.  33). 

The  sisters  Clcelia  Pulchra  and  Diodora 
were  together  in  a  little  chamber  assigned  to 
the  Vestal,  near  the  temple.  They  did  not 
leave  each  other  now. 

Day  or  night  the  priestess  would  watch  no 
more  by  the  shrine,  to  guard  the  Sacred  Fire 
for  Rome. 

The  watching  had  fallen  now  to  Clcelia 
Diodora.  Day  and  night  she  guarded  and 
cherished  that  precious  Sacred  Fire  of  life, 
which,  guard  and  cherish  as  she  would,  she 
knew  too  well  was  slowly  dying  in  the  heart 
of  her  sister. 

She  was  just  entering  the  door  with  a 
pitcher  of  fresh  water  from  the  old  spring  on 
the  Ccelian  Hill.  Her  sister  had  longed  for 
it ;  and  every  morning  now,  along  the  paths 
where  in  former  happy  years  the  }*oung 
priestess  had  borne  the  water  for  the  shrine, 
the  early  light  flaming  through  the  bays  or 
the  vine-leaves  on  her  buoyant  form  and  joy- 
ous face,  the  same  early  sunbeams  fell  on  the 
shrunken  form  and  sad  worn  features  of  the 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANqUlSIIED.         301 

deformed  girl.  But  the  ministry  was  certain- 
ly as  high,  and  the  heart  as  pure. 

"  It  is  almost  a  comfort,  my  Beautiful,"  Dio- 
dora  said  as  she  held  the  cool  draught  to  the 
sufferer's  parched  lips,  "  that  the  old  places 
we  loved  are  so  changed  since  you  used  to 
meet  me  among  the  vines  and  myrtles  in  the 
old  garden.  The  garden  is  gone,  and  the  old 
Home  swept  away  in  the  great  fire.  New 
trees  and  shrubs  are  there,  that  throw  no 
changing  shadows  yet  on  the  dusty  paths  be- 
tween the  new  walls.  Even  the  Jews  are 
gone  from  their  dwellings  by  the  Fountain  of 
Egeria  in  the  valley  below.  It  is  a  comfort 
that  things  are  changed  and  spoiled  a  little, 
now  you  cannot  be  there." 

"  Little  sister,"  said  the  Vestal,  rising  on 
her  pillows  and  fixing  her  large  wistful  eyes 
on  the  face  which  ceaselessly  watched  her,  "  I 
have  been  thinking  so  long,  and  at  last  I  must 
speak.  Laon  spoke  to  me  once,  long  ago,  of 
an  old  Jew  who  told  you  of  a  Hope  his  na- 
tion had  cherished  for  thousands  of  years — a 
Hope  he  believed  to  be  now  near  at  hand.  I 
have  never  spoken  to  you  again  of  this ;  but 
I  have  never  forgotten  it.  Year  after  year  1 
have  watched  for  some  sign  of  this  Deliverer. 
East  and  west,  and  north  and  south,  I  have 
looked  for  tidings.  Chiefly  from  the  east. 
All  in  vain.  Once  I  thought  some  hope 


302         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

might  lie  for  Rome  and  the  world  in  Ger- 
manicus.  He  seemed  like  one  of  our  old 
heroes  with  a  new  Greek  grace  on  him ;  his 
home  pure  as  an  old  home  of  the  republic. 

"And  again,  I  heard  the  young  German 
captive  who  rescued  you  on  the  day  of  the 
Triumph  speak  of  a  hero  of  his  race  to  whom 
the  Germans  looked  as  a  Liberator.  And  I 
thought,  '  Perhaps  Rome  has  sunk  too  low 
for  any  deliverance  to  come  from  her.  From 
a  young  nation  pure  and  strong,  with  men 
like  that  young  German,  frank  and  generous, 
and  brave  and  true,  and  women  like  Siguna, 
a  new  life  might  spring  for  the  world." 

"  But  Germanicus  was  poisoned  at  Antioch  ; 
Herman  was  assassinated  by  his  own  people 
among  their  own  forests. 

"  North  and  south,  and  west  and  east,  there 
comes  no  sign  or  sound  ;  and  the  world  grows 
ever  worse.  Did  you  ever  see  that  Jew  again  ? 
Tell  me  all  you  know.  There  can  be  no  peril 
in  any  belief  for  me  now.  Even  old  Laon 
would  not  dread  anything  for  me  now." 

"  I  saw  the  old  Jew  again,"  Diodora  replied. 
"  I  never  spoke  to  him  of  that  Hope.  But 
Siguna  was  with  him  when  he  died." 

"  He  died  without  seeing  any  token  of  ful- 
filment ?  " 

"  She  said  he  seemed  to  die  reluctantly, 
chiefly  because  of  that.  He  thought  to  have 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         303 

lived  till  the  light  dawned.  But  she  said  he 
evidently  held  the  Hope  as  firmly  as  ever. 
And  he  said  his  daughter  would  see  it." 

"  I  would  I  could  have  seen  him  once,"  the 
Vestal  said.  "  I  feel  as  if  he  might  have  told 
me  something  I  long  to  know.  But  now,"  she 
added  despondingly,  "  all  the  Jews  are  banish- 
ed from  Rome.  I  shall  die  without  seeing 
any  good  come  to  Rome  and  to  the  world. 
But  I  think  I  could  die  not  reluctantly,  if  I 
had  such  a  sure  hope  that  it  must  come." 

"  He  seemed  to  hold  strange  converse, 
Siguna  said,  before  he  died,  with  One  unseen, 
whom  he  feared  and  loved.  He  spoke  as  to 
some  One  who  heard.  Sometimes  his  terror 
and  shrinking  were  great — greater,  Siguna 
said,  than  she  has  seen  among  her  people  or 
ours.  It  was  as  if  his  soul  was  awake  in  some 
wonderful  way — as  if  he  looked  on  dying,  not 
as  a  dim  slumber  or  a  shadowy  repetition  of 
this  life,  but  an  awaking  to  intenser  life. 
Sometimes  he  shrank  with  unutterable  horror, 
as  if  from  some  great  chasm  that  he  saw 
clearly.  And  sometimes  he  seemed  to  see  no 
chasm  at  all,  but  only  God.  And  then  he  said 
and  looked  '  Peace.'  And  on  his  tomb,  Siguna 
said — on  the  stone  which  covers  the  ledge 
where  he  was  laid  in  the  Jewish  Catacomb — 
he  desired  to  have  the  word  Peace  engraven 
in  Greek.  She  saw  it  on  many  stones  there 


304        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

as  well  as  on  his.  I  never  saw  such  words  on 
any  urn  or  sarcophagus  of  ours." 

"  God  !"  said  the  Vestal.  "  God,  and  Peace  !" 

"  I  remember,"  Diodora  resumed,  after  a 
long  pause,  half  reluctantly,  "  one  of  the  songs 
of  his  people,  which  the  old  man  said  to  me. 
It  was  full  of  an  exulting  passion  of  expecta- 
tion and  joy.  Even  in  his  feeble  voice  the 
words  made  me  feel  as  if  some  great  festive 
chorus  was  around  me.  Like  all  the  songs  he 
knew,  it  was  sung  to  God.  The  fear  and 
tremulous  expectation,  and  joy,  and  triumph- 
ant hope  in  those  strange  songs,  all  were 
hanging  on  God.  This  one  was  called  a  New 
Song.  A  thousand  years  old  now,  he  said, 
but  it  sounded  fresh  as  the  lark's  this  morning. 
It  spoke  of  strength  and  beauty  above  all  in 
God.  There  was  the  dashing  of  waves  in  it, 
the  deep  voice  of  forests,  but  all  were  full  of 
rapturous  gladness :  the  heavens,  the  rivers, 
the  sea,  the  hills,  the  fields,  the  floods,  rejoic- 
ing, clapping  hands,  like  children,  singing, 
shouting  aloud  for  joy — all  because  He  com- 
eth ;  He  cometh  to  judge  the  earth,  to  judge 
the  world  righteously." 

The  Vestal  raised  herself  on  her  arm,  and 
her  eyes  grew  deeper  than  ever,  and  shone 
with  something  of  their  old  radiance. 

"  Cloelia,  little  sister,  is  not  that  reason 
enough  ?  To  judge  the  world  righteously  ! 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 


305 


If  I  were  sure  of  that,  I  could  die  gladly — or, 
I  think,  I  could  scarcely  die,  for  joy !  Think 
of  all  the  wrong- !  Think  of  that  German  cap- 
tive boy,  so  noble,  and  not  yet  safe  even  from 
the  cross ;  of  the  millions  of  slaves ;  of  the  cries 
from  the  provinces ;  of  the  wickedness  in  the 
city  ;  of  Tiberius  at  Capreae.  '  He  cometh  ; 
He  cometh,'  to  judge  the  world  righteously." 

She  sank  back  on  her  cushions. 

Diodora  did  not  answer. 

She  was  watching  the  weary  face,  again 
sunk  into  quiet ;  the  long  lashes  of  the  closed 
eyelids  shading  the  worn  face. 

She  was  thinking,  not  of  the  suffering 
world,  but  of  the  love  that  had  been  all  in  the 
world  she  cared  for. 

Clcelia  Pulchra  looked  up  again,  and  smiled 
into  the  tearful  eyes. 

"  Would  it  not  be  good  to  know  surely," 
she  said,  taking  her  sister's  hand — "  to  know 
the  world  would  be  dealt  fairly  with  at  last?  " 

Then  for  once  Diodora's  self-restraint  gave 
way.  She  threw  herself  on  her  knees  by  the 
side  of  the  couch,  and  leaned  her  face  on  the 
thin  hand  she  held. 

"  What  do  I  care  for  the  world,  my  Beauti- 
ful ! "  she  said.  "  It  is  wicked,  cruel,  selfish. 
What  would  being  judged  do  for  it,  except  to 
sweep  it  away  once  for  all !  If  some  One 
would  come  and  make  it  good,  that  would 


306  VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

be  something.  Only  too  late ;  too  late  for 
thee  and  me!  What  should  I  care  for  the 
world  if  you  were  to  leave  it !  It  is  of  you  I 
want  to  know.  If  some  one  would  come  and 
tell  me  where  you  are  going,  and  how  to  get 
to  you.  Anywhere,  anywhere — only  to  be 
sure  we  would  find  each  other.  If  we  were 
only  together,  I  would  not  mind  being  a 
voiceless  shade,  or  anything.  We  should  never 
be  voiceless  shades  to  each  other.  We  should 
make  the  world  real  for  each  other  wherever 
we  were.  Just  by  living  together,  and  by 
loving.  But  all  the  people  in  the  world 
would  be  voiceless  shades  to  me  without  thee. 
With  thee  the  fire-rivers  would  be  Olympian 
sunshine.  But  to  be  a  bit  of  some  great  soul 
of  the  world  !  it  were  as  well  to  be  a  bit  of  the 
dust  of  the  world.  This  is  the  great  terror. 
Oh,  my  sister,  if  some  god  would  only  tell  me 
of  thee,  I  would  let  the  world  be." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Slowly  Diodora 
regained  her  self-control ;  her  sobs  ceased,  and 
she  knelt  silently,  still  clasping  the  thin  hand. 

Not  in  prayer.  The  grief  was  suppressed, 
not  soothed.  She  rose  with  lips  firmly  set  to 
endure,  but  with  no  peace  on  her  face. 

The  wistful  eyes  followed  her  as  she  moved 
quietly  about  the  room,  preparing  some  food. 
At  last,  when  she  brought  it,  Clcelia  Pulchra, 
fixing  her  eyes  on  her,  calmly  said — 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         307 

"  Little  sister,  I  have  tried  to  serve  my 
Rome  ;  I  fear  not  to  much  avail.  I  have  tried 
to  make  thy  burden  lighter,  and  that,  I  think, 
I  did.  By  all 'our  love,  promise  me  one  thing 
before  I  go.  Promise  me  you  will  not  rush 
after  me  out  of  the  world  !  " 

Cloelia  Diodora  stood  still,  and  turned  pale, 
as  if  surprised  and  arrested  in  a  hidden  pur- 
pose. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  wrong !  "  she  said  in  a 
low  voice.  "  It  might  be  cowardly.  But  the 
bravest  of  our  Rome  have  not  thought  so. 
Laon  says  his  wise  men  thought  it  would  be 
like  a  soldier  deserting  his  post.  But  I  know 
not  what  post  has  been  given  me  in  the  world 
to  keep,  that  any  should  be  wronged  by  my 
deserting  it.  Nor  know  I  who  gave  me  such 
a  post ;  or  had  a  right  to  command  me  to  stay." 

The  dying  priestess  held  the  reluctant  hand, 
and  gazed  on  the  half-averted  eyes,  until  they 
turned  to  her. 

"  I  have  a  strange  unconquerable  Hope  that 
One  is  coming,"  she  said.  "  I  want  you  to 
stay  and  see.  And  I  have  a  strange  dim  fear, 
lest,  rushing  after  me  unbidden,  there  should 
be  none  at  hand  to  lead  you,  and  we  should 
lose  each  other  in  the  dark,  and  search  for 
each  other  for  ever  (if  we  live  at  all) ;  and 
have  no  voice  to  call  each  other,  and  no  hand 
to  guide  us  to  each  other,  and  never  find  each 


3o8        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

other  more.  Promise  me,  by  our  love,  you 
will  wait." 

The  poor  face  so  lately  convulsed  with 
weeping  quivered  again. 

"  Do  not  ask  it,  my  beautiful !  Anything 
but  that !  It  was  the  only  hope  I  had." 

"  Old  Laon  was  good  to  you  !"  the  priest- 
ess said,  after  a  pause.  "  He  saved  you.  He 
loves  you.  He  looks  to  your  kindness  for  liis 
old  age.  He  may  grow  blind  and  helpless, 
and  want  you  to  care  for  him  as  he  cared  for 
you." 

"  He  would  scarcely  ask  it.  He  would 
know  what  the  world  would  be  to  me  with- 
out you." 

"  He  would  not  ask  it.  But  he  would  want 
it,  little  sister  !"  she  added,  very  tenderly.  "  I 
have  tried  to  be  a  loyal  Roman  maiden  and 
keep  my  charge.  I  entreat  you,  do  not  aban- 
don yours." 

"  Until  Laon  dies,  then  !"  Diodora  replied, 
hesitating. 

"  After  that  it  cannot  be  long,"  the  Vestal 
said.  "  For  the  sake  of  me — for  the  fear  of 
missing  each  other  in  the  dark — for  the  sake 
of  quieting  this  fear  of  mine,  if  it  be  a  childish 
fear — as  you  would  go  through  any  mockery 
or  pain  to  bring  me  the  smallest  thing  I  wished 
for,  go  through  that  pain  to  save  me  this  fear 
now." 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        309 

A  long-  silence.  Then  the  compressed  lips 
parted  in  the  old  radiant  smile  which  made 
the  worn  face  beautiful. 

"  For  thy  sake,  yes  !  What  are  fears  of 
pain  hereafter,  to  give  thee  a  day's  ease  while 
I  have  thee  ?  Would  I  not  pour  out  my  life 
in  one  drop  to  oool  thy  thirst  ?  Shall  I  vow 
it  to  thee  at  any  shrine  ?" 

"  Take  my  hands  and  kiss  me  and  promise. 
That  will  be  the  surest  vow." 

"  By  our  love,  I  promise,"  the  younger  sis- 
ter said. 

Clcelia  Pulchra  was  satisfied.  They  knew 
nothing  more  sacred  with  which  to  seal  the 
.vow. 

And  soon  afterwards  the  sufferer  fell  into  a 
quiet  sleep.  When  she  awoke,  she  said, — 

"  When  great  people  die,  there  is  generally 
an  emancipation  of  slaves.  A  Vestal  Virgin 
has  some  claims  on  Rome.  I  have  never 
made  any.  That  German  captive  who  saved 
thee  is  no  longer  a  slave  of  the  Imperial  house, 
but  of  some  subject.  I  have  been  thinking  I 
will  ask  it  as  my  last  request  of  Rome,  that 
his  ransom  be  paid.  I  should  like  to  think  he 
would  be  freed,  when  I  am.  Darling,  say 
those  dying  words  of  the  wise  Athenian 
again." 

Diodora  repeated,  as  well  as  she  could,  the 
familiar  words  she  had  read  so  often  to  Laon. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

" '  But  those  who  are  found  to  have  lived 
an  eminently  holy  life,  these  are  they  who, 
being  freed  or  set  at  large  from  these  regions 
on  the  earth  as  from  a  prison,  arrive  at  the 
pure  abodes  above  ;  since  our  soul  is  certainly 
immortal.' 

"  And  again :  '  He  thinks  that  I  am  he 
whom  he  shall  shortly  behold  dead  !  But  do 
you  be  sureties  that  when  I  die  I  shall  not  re- 
main, but  shall  depart  to  some  happy  state  of 
the  blessed,  that  when  ye  see  my  body  either 
burned  or  buried,  ye  may  not  be  afflicted  for 
me,  as  though  I  suffered  some  dreadful  thing, 
nor  say  at  my  interment  that  Socrates  is  laid 
out,  or  is  carried  out,  or  is  buried. 

"  '  The  soul  is  most  certainly  immortal  and 
imperishable,  and  will  really  exist  in  the  un- 
seen world,  taking  not  Jung  with  it  but  the  disci- 
pline it  has  gained  here.' 

"  And  then  he  spoke  of  our  dwelling  on  this 
small  earth,  as  ants  or  frogs  about  a  marsh, 
and  when  we  die  getting  wings,  and  rising  to 
the  large,  pure,  beautiful  world  on  high." 

"  Ah,  little  sister,"  the  Vestal  said,  "  if  we 
were  sure  of  those  wings  !  sure  we  have  them 
growing  in  our  souls  !  and  that  we  (if  we  in- 
deed live  on)  shall  be  indeed  among  those 
pure  spirits  who  will  soar,  not  sink  !  But  this 
at  least  you  will  do  for  me  ;  this,  of  which  -we 
can  be  sure.  You  will  see  that  the  German 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         3II 

captive  is  set  free.  It  will  feel  like  dying  for 
some  good,  like  a  soldier  of  our  old  Rome,  to 
know  that/ 

That  night,  when  the  lamp  burned  low  to- 
wards morning,  the  Vestal  seemed  to  think 
she  was  alone,  as  in  the  old  Vigils  in  the  tem- 
ple at  night,  for  she  said, — 

"  See,  beautiful,  pure,  vestal  stars,  one  by 
one,  as  you  pass  across  my  little  space  of  sky ! 
See,  I,  even  I,  have  kept  the  fire  and  the  sa- 
cred charge  for  Rome.  Oh,  boundless  Heav- 
ens, I  have  kept  my  Hearth-fire  for  you !  Are 
ye  keeping  a  hearth-fire  for  me  ?  This  fire  I 
have  kept  is  not  me  ;  I  have  but  kept  it  burn- 
ing. And  these  starry  fires  are  not  you.  Be- 
yond, within,  beyond  are  ye  !  I  am  coming  ! 
Give  me  some  little  fire  still  to  keep  bright 
for  the  world  !  Give  me  some  great  heart 
where  I  may  rest !" 

And  then,  when  the  flickering  lamp  died  out 
and  the  calm  morning  broke,  her  spirit  seemed 
to  come  into  daylight,  and  she  said,  going 
back  with  the  clear  gaze  of  those  who  are  de- 
parting,— 

"  The  German  captive  will  be  free.  It  may 
seem,  after  all,  like  my  old  dream,  when  the 
Cloelia,  who  swam  the  river  and  saved  the 
children,  appeared  to  me  and  told  me  my  life 
would  be  like  the  stream  our  forefatlrer 


3i2         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

brought  from  the  Alban  hills  to  Rome.  I 
thought  it  might  then.  But  perhaps  all  it  has 
really  done  is  to  fill  two  cups  of  cold  water ; 
living  to  fill  one  fresh  for  thee  morning  by 
morning,  and  dying  to  purchase  one  for  him 
•who  saved  thee.  Yet  even  that  is  something." 

And  after  a  pause  ^she  went  on  in  a  low 
voice, — 

"  He  will  be  free.  And  perhaps,  perhaps,  I 
shall  be  free  too  ; — out  of  prison  and  free  and 
winged,  and  know  about  you,  and  wait  for 
you.  If  there  were  only  some  One  there  be- 
fore to  wait  for  me,  to  receive  me  !  Perhaps  ! 
It  is  a  dark  long  journey  to  go  on  a  '  perhaps.' 
Little  sister,  be  near  me  when  I  go.  Let  me 
know  that  brave  heart  will  fear  bondage  no 
more,  nor  the  scourge  nor  the  cross.  Let  me 
know  your  hand  is  in  mine.  And  let  me  think 
that  perhaps  my  life  has  been  a  stream  of  re- 
freshment to  you  and  to  him  ;  my  life  and  my 
death.  And  that  perhaps,  perhaps  Socrates 
was  right  about  the  soul  and  her  wings,  and 
the  old  Jew  about  the  Hope.  '  For  He  com- 
eth,  He  cometh  to  judge  the  earth,  to  judge 
the  world  righteously.' " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

N  the  Sacred  Pomcerium — the  space 
marked  out  by  religious  rites  along 
the  line  of  the  ancient  wall,  where 
divinations  and  auguries  for  the  City 
were  taken,  where  no  unhallowed  thing  must 
rest — they  laid  the  ashes  of  Clcelia  the  Vestal, 
as  things  sacred,  belonging  to  heaven  and  to 
Rome. 

Thither  Clcelia  Diodora  crept  morning  and 
evening ;  and  there  she  watched  through 
many  a  night.  Free  from  fear  of  evil :  free 
from  fear,  as  those  are  free  for  whom  life  has 
no  longer  any  hope.  What  could  the  worst 
enemy  do  more  for  her  than  break  those  fet- 
ters to  life,  which  she  had  vowed  never  to 
break  for  herself? 

Her  sorrow  was  at  least  allowed  to  flow  in 

an  unbroken  tide.     With  her  sister's  life,  all 

worth  calling  life  in  her  own  had  ended.     It 

was  she  who  had  been  burned  in  that  funeral 

14  (3«3) 


314        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

pyre — whose  heart  lay  smouldering  in  ashes, 
being  burned  for  ever,  yet  unconsumed.  Love 
and  Duty  had  been  slain  together.  For  her 
there  were  no  tender  claims,  no  inevitable 
small  necessities  and  cares,  plucking  her'back 
to  every-day  life.  No  one  would  miss  her, 
and  she  was  neglecting  nothing,  if,  from  morn- 
ing to  night,  from  night  till  morning,  she  kept 
ceaseless  watch  by  her  dead. 

Her  one  charge  in  life  had  ended  before 
life.  Henceforth  her  whole  existence  might 
be  as  this  Pomcerium — a  sacred  waste  in  the 
midst  of  the  Great  City,  once  ploughed  with 
the  sacred  plough  of  Hope,  now  dedicated  to 
the  Past,  to  Sacred  Rites,  and  to  the  Dead. 

If  there  were  none  to  weep  with  her,  and 
say  "  Weep  not,"  with  compassionate  voice, 
almighty  in  two  worlds,  like  Him  whom  yet 
she  knew  not ;  there  were  also  none  to  say, 
with  dry  eyes  and  dry  unmoved  voice,  like 
Tiberius — "  Weep  not ;  tears  in  moderation 
are  excusable,  even  desirable:  you  have  shed 
enough ;  now  return  to  pleasure."  There 
were  none  to  say  (as  if  there  were  consolation 
in  a  comparative  anatomy  of  torture),  "  Your 
cup  is  not  bitterer  than  many  others ; "  or, 
with  smooth  self-complacency  and  easy  senti- 
mental tears,  "  Ah  !  I  have  tasted  it  too  ;  "  or, 
with  comfortable  optimism  of  shallow  relig- 
iousness, "  It  is  not  really  bitter — taken  aright, 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         3^ 

it  is  sweet "  (as  if  a  certain  sweet  spiritual 
flavor  were  what  we  wanted,  and  not  love, 
the  old  love,  bitter  or  sweet). 

Every  one  knew  she  had  lost  all ;  and  those 
who  cared  enough  to  think  about  it  felt  that 
the  only  refuge  for  her  would  be  to  die  also, 
and  thought,  if  she  had  courage  enough,  that 
was  in  her  own  power. 

Neither  had  she  any  inward  conflicts  be- 
tween weak,  would-be  faith  and  mighty  ex-, 
isting  misery.  Strong,  in  a  deep,  unbroken 
tide,  the  great  sorrow  swept  over  her ;  con- 
sciously stifled  and  drowning  in  it,  blinded 
and  stunned  with  it,  yet  unable  to  faint  or 
sink. 

She  believed  the  gods  (if  there  were  gods) 
— those  sunny,  smiling  Olympians — had  been 
unjust,  merciless,  cruel  to  her :  to  her,  and  the 
pure,  beautiful  Being  who  had  been  ready  to 
give  her  life  to  them.  She  believed  it  with- 
out reserve,  and  said  it  to  herself  without 
self-reproach.  She  dashed  bitter  words  of 
accusation  up  against  that  sky  of  brass  ;  faint- 
ly comforting  herself  sometimes  with  the 
thought  that  there  were  some  behind  it  who 
could  hear  and  might  be  stung  amidst  their 
bliss, — if  only  stung  to  a  little  scornful  smile 
on  the  smooth  lips  amidst  their  feasting. 

The  darkest  tim.es  of  all  were  when  she  felt 
that  no  cries  of  her  anguish  could  reach  any 


3i6        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

one,  either,  to  awaken  pity  or  scorn  ;  that  she 
was,  after  all,  but  as  a  puling  child  striking 
its  helpless  wounded  hands  against  the  stone 
that  had  wounded  it. 

She  felt,  not  stricken  only,  but  wronged  ; 
wronged  as  she  (embittered  though  her  heart 
was)  would,  she  knew,  have  wronged  no  one. 
Her  whole  life  had  been  one  wrong.  Why 
had  she  been  imprisoned  without  crime  in  the 
joyless  dungeon  of  this  misshapen  flesh  ?  Why 
had  drops,  not  of  bitterness  only,  but  of 
venom,  been  distilling  all  these  years  into  her 
heart?  Why,  now,  had  the  »only  hand  that 
warded  them  from  her  heart  been  smitten  and 
made  powerless?  Her  whole  being  was  in  a 
tumult  of  revolt,  and  she  did  not  attempt  to 
still  it.  In  the  loneliness  of  the  Pomcerium,  by 
that  sacred  urn,  the  tempest  within  made  the 
silence  tumultuous.  The  noise  of  the  City, 
the  perilous  thronging  of  the  crowd  in  the 
narrow  streets,  the  eager  cries  and  voices  of 
the  multitude  in  the  Forum,  seemed  stiller 
than  this  solitude.  With  the  silencing  of  that 
one  voice,  all  human  creatures  had  become 
voiceless  shades  to  her. 

"  You  are  all  nothing  but  masks,"  she 
thought.  "  Some  of  you  seem  to  be  cherished 
children,  beloved  brides,  happy  mothers, 
strong  men.  But  it  is  all  seeming.  You  only 
seem  to  be  children,  brides,  mothers.  But 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

you  are  mere  perishing,  mortal  creatures. 
Soon  you  will  all  have  to  lay  aside  your 
masks,  and  become  like  my  Beautiful." 

With  a  kind  of  bitter  triumph,  she  saw  an- 
other King  enthroned  above  all  the  tumult  of 
the  City  and  the  pomp  of  the  Palatine. 

"  Not  Tiberius,"  she  said.  "  Death,  and 
only  Death,  is  the  Universal  Lord." 

There  were  times  when  she  felt  the  exist- 
ence of  the  meanest  living  creature  a  cruel 
wrong  to  her  Dead.  She  grudged  to  all  the 
life  her  Beloved  had  lost,  and  which  she  could 
not  lose.  There  were  times,  again,  when  she 
had  a  fierce  joy  in  the  thought  how  brief  the 
seeming  advantage  of  the  living  was. 

"  Soon,  soon,"  she  said,  "  you  will  all  be 
crumbled  into  just  such  a  little  urn  as  this. 
The  majority  are  there  already — the  best,  the 
bravest." 

She  felt  her  heart  slowly  turning  into  ice. 
And  this  was  the  only  terror  left.  She  dread- 
ed lest  she  should  grow  bitter  and  malignant, 
like  other  distorted  and  baffled  creatures  from 
whom  hope  had  died,  and  so  grow  unlike  and 
estranged  from  her  Beloved. 

Yet  one  day,  when  she  sat  weighed  down 
by  this  fear,  crouched  on  the  ground,  and 
near  her  a  poor  bird  was  helplessly  struggling 
in  a  snare,  beating  its  wings,  and  piteously 
chirping,  with  tender,  deft  fingers  she  un- 


3i8        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

twisted  the  snare,  and  set  the  trembling  cap- 
tive free. 

"  It  is  worth  while  setting  you  free,"  she 
said,  as  if  apologizing  to  herself,  as  it  flew  up- 
wards, knowing  nothing  of  its  liberator  ;  "  you 
have  wings !" 

That  little  act  of  kindness  reacted,  stirred 
the  dying  embers,  brought  a  little  warmth 
about  her  heart ;  and  with  that  the  thought 
of  Siward.  She  wondered  if  freedom  would, 
after  all,  be  any  boon  to  him.  She  felt  it  was 
sweet  he  should  owe  it  to  her  Beloved. 

She  had  written  a  letter  to  old  Laon  about 
Siward's  ransom  ;  and  wondered,  with  a 
dreamy,  languid  wonder,  wlfat  he  would 
write  or  do  in  consequence — if  he  would  care 
enough  to  come  to  her  in  her  misery.  And 
with  the  thought  of  Laon  came  visions  of  the 
little  dark  room  behind  the  workshop. 

"  I  could  be  a  hand  again  for  him,  perhaps," 
she  thought ;  "  and  perhaps  one  day  a  voice 
(she  wished  me  to  serve  him) ;  never  more  a 
heart  or  a  soul  for  any  one." 

Then  her  mind  reverted  to  the  wise  words 
Laon  had  taught  her. 

"  I  used  to  think  I  could  launch  fearless 
hence  into  the  unknown,  like  Socrates,  on 
that  hope,  and  risk  all  on  that  hazard,"  she 
thought ;  "  and  I  still  could.  But  to  trust  her  to 
it  is  another  thing.  To  trust  her  to  a  Perhaps  ! 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  the  other  world,  if 
there  be  one,  is  not  another  Capreas,  with  an- 
other Tiberius  holding  all  the  worlds  bound 
and  trembling  in  the  capricious  cruelty  of 
fear  as  he  holds  Rome  ? 

"  If  not,  how  comes  there  to  be  a  Caprese 
here  ?  " 

And  in  the  confusion  and  dimness  of  that 
land  of  the  terrible  shadow,  with  the  rush  of 
its  advancing,  devouring  tides  ever  in  her 
ears,  a  wild  longing  to  see  the  unseen  took 
possession  of  her ;  to  see,  at  any  price,  any- 
thing of  the  future  world,  which  had  become 
the  present  world  to  her  Beloved. 

Before  the  Olympians,  old  legends  said,  had 
reigned  the  Titans. 

It  was  said  there  were  regions  where  the 
Titans  still  reigned.  If  this  dim,  transitory 
world  of  ours  was  a  world  of  shadows  to  the 
gods,  below  this  world  was  a  yet  dimmer  un- 
der-world, which  seemed  a  world  of  shadows 
to  us. 

There,  still  reigned  in  awful  solemnity  the 
ancient  gods,  all  that  was  left  of  the  dethroned 
dynasty,  with  a  mystic  majesty  about  them, 
their  grand  forms  gigantic  and  dim  in  the 
stationary  twilight,  which  never  faded  and 
never  dawned,  the  gray  fathers  and  mothers 
of  the  gods — blind,  some  of  them,  some  of 
them  in  torments,  yet  royal,  and  reigning  in 


320        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

through  all  the  defeat  and  pain,  in  a  dim,  lurid 
land  of  fire  and  night. 

How  far  had  their  dethronement  been  the 
consequence  of  the  necessary  growth  of 
things,  and  how  far  a  wrong?  Was  there  a 
faint  pulse  of  hope  throbbing  through  that 
under-world,  as  now  in  some  hearts  in  the 
dark  world  of  Tiberius  Csesar  ? — a  faint  hope 
of  some  far-off  dim  rescue  by  a  Deliverer  in 
strange  sympathy  with  man,  and  with  those 
ancient  dethroned  powers  ? 

Long  she  mused  on  the  old  legends  as  she 
kept  those  long,  lowly  vigils  by  the  tomb. 

For  in  some  dim  way  that  under-world  was 
bound  up  with  men.  This  Hades,  the  exile 
and  abode  of  dethroned  gods,  was  also  the 
place  of  exile,  and  yet  the  longest  abode  of 
men.  The  Empire  of  the  Titans  was  the  em- 
pire of  the  dead. 

If  her  sister  Cioelia  the  Vestal  had  been 
banished,  like  the  Princess  Agrippina,  to  the 
island  of  Pandataria,  what  interest  would  the 
fairest  cities  and  paradises  of  the  world  have 
had  for  her  compared  with  the  seas  and  shores 
around  that  lonely,  barren  isle  ! 

How  she  would  have  haunted  the  nearest 
shores,  and  treasured  the  faintest  rumors 
brought  by  the  fishermen  who  had  coasted 
near  those  inhospitable  shores,  and  travers- 
ed sea  and  land  to  have  a  few  minutes'  in- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         321 

tercourse  with  any  who  had  returned  thence? 
For  even  that  imperial  prison,  with  its  moat  of 
seas,  did  indeed  sometim2s  yield  up  its  exiles. 

Could  it  be  possible  that  there  might  be 
some  rumors  to  be  gathered  even  of  that  land 
of  shadows,  the  Pandataria  of  the  gods  ?  In 
her  childhood  dark,  wild  terrors  had  haunted 
certain  places,  and  times,  and  people.  She 
had  heard  of  incantations  and  fearful  half- 
barbarous  rites  powerful  to  evoke  the  dead, 
of  divinations  into  the  future. 

There  were  caverns  among  the  hills,  one  it 
was  said  even  on  the  Roman  Aventine,  which 
led  no  one  had  fathomed  whither,  haunted  by 
strange  voices.  There  were  legends  of  moun- 
tains having  throbbed  and  quivered,  as  if 
some  gigantic  heart  beat  beneath  them.  There 
were  fountains  which  bubbled  up  hot  and  tur- 
bid, as  if  they  were  escaping  from  some  fiery 
world  below. 

Could  these  be  gateways  into  that  under- 
world ? 

For  her  all  their  terror  was  gone. 

What  were  earthquakes,  and  thunders,  and 
sulphurous  flames,  and  angry  infernal  voices 
as  of  monsters  disturbed  in  uneasy  sleep,  and 
all  the  vulgar  terrors  which  guarded  those 
approaches  to  the  unknown,  to  her? 

For  her,  all  visionary  terrors  had  vanished 
before  the  memorv  of  that  one  beautiful, 
14* 


322         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

peaceful,  irresponsive  face,  and  those  still  cold 
hands.  If  this  under-world  were  indeed  the 
dwelling-place  of  her  sister,  the  darkest  witch- 
cavern  that  led  to  it  would  to  her  be  brighter 
than  the  sunniest  porch  of  the  brightest  home 
on  earth,  more  home-like  than  its  inmost 
hearth. 

The  more  she  mused  on  ft,  the  more  fasci- 
nation that  dim  under-world  had  for  her. 

Olympus,  with  its  golden  thrones,  its  sunny 
heights,  its  easy,  feasting,  joyous  revellers, 
faded  into  a  childish  poesy,  a  nursery  ballad ; 
Apollo,  Aurora,  Diana,  and  even  Jove,  seemed 
mere  children,  mere  transitory  beings,  beside 
those  solemn,  gray  old  gods  of  the  older  sway. 

The  real  world  was  not  an  Olympus,  whose 
gods  and  goddesses  might  dissolve  into  morn- 
ing clouds,  into  sunbeams  and  moonbeams ; 
it  was  not  here,  in  this  world  of  stage-players, 
of  dust  and  delusion ;  but  below,  where  the 
ancient  gods  reigned,  and  men  had  to  abide 
for  ever;  that  awful  permanent  world  with 
its  rivers  of  fire  and  of  forgetfulness,  its  dim, 
fair  fields  lighted  not  by  sun  or  moon. 

The  mystic  name  of  Hecate  came  to  her 
again  and  again,  as  if  muttered  in  hollow  cav- 
erns of  the  past.  She  remembered  how  Da- 
maris,  the  Athenian  slave,  used  to  mutter  it  in 
low  tones,  to  the  terror  of  her  childhood. 

Hecate,  older  than  all  the  gods  adored  in 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         323 

fair  marble  temples ;  though  worshiped  only 
in  caves  and  dark  places  of  the  earth.  Having 
had  a  right  to  reign  as  much  prior  to  that  of 
Jove,  as  that  of  Jove  to  Tiberius  Cassar.  And, 
according  to  general  belief,  reigning  still. 
Reigning  in  the  under-world.  And,  it  was 
rumored,  not  only  there.  Honored  even  by 
the  immortal  gods.  Worshiped  with  secret 
mystic  rites,  dimly  looming  on  the  eyes  of 
men  in  monstrous  symbolical  forms — three- 
headed,  with  the  face  of  a  horse,  of  a  dog,  of 
a  lion.  Reigning  over  the  spirits  of  the  dead, 
but  also  over  the  chase,  and  the  sea ;  able  to 
bestow  good  on  the  young,  to  whom  this  sun- 
lit world  was  still  the  reality  ;  herself  the  god- 
dess of  the  moon,  of  night,  of  the  unseen. 

Recollections  came  on  her,  too,  of  ancient 
mysteries  of  Eleusis,  giving  hope,  it  was  said, 
of  the  future  life ;  and  of  Oriental  mystics — 
Essenes,  Therapeutas— mystics  who  held  the 
body  to  be  a  prison,  and  death  a  liberation. 

She  determined  to  travel  anywhere,  and  go 
through  anything,  to  be  initiated. 

And  meantime  there  were  still  necroman- 
cers and  magicians  at  Rome. 

Banished  by  edict  after  edict,  the  anxious 
hearts  of  men  called  them  back  again  and 
again.  Emperors  condemned  and  consulted 
them.  When,  on  the  height  of  prosperity, 
the  sense  of  the  hidden  precipices  around 


324        VICTORY  OF  THE    VANQUISHED. 

made  the  brain  dizzy,  and  the  very  brightness 
of  the  present  made  the  future  a  dread,  the 
strongest  and  most  matter-of-fact  intellects 
yielded  to  the  fascination  of  a  promised 
glimpse  into  the  darkness  before  them. 
Through  the  stars,  through  the  throbbing 
hearts  of  slain  beasts,  through  voices  in  oracu- 
lar caverns,  through  magic  rings  and  mirrors — 
any  outlet  was  sought  from  the  uncertainty 
which  shrouds  the  next  step  of  the  securest 
and  sunniest  life. 

Or,  again,  when  all  the  best  light  and 
warmth  had  passed  from  the  present,  and  the 
personal  future,  as  with  Clcelia  Diodora,  had 
ceased  to  interest  because  it  could  not  restore 
the  past,  then  a  deeper  and  mightier  fascina- 
tion drew  the  heart  to  those  who  professed  to 
be  able  to  pierce  not  merely  the  mists  of  the 
future,  but  the  deeper  darkness  of  present 
death — to  tell  not  what  we  shall  be,  but  what 
and  where  our  beloved  are. 

With  passionate  longing  the  deformed  girl 
sought  to  wrest  the  dark  secret  from  one 
magician  after  another,  spending  her  little 
patrimony  on  one  gloomy  rite  after  another, 
lavishing  any  money  they  asked  her  on  the 
sacrifices,  which  the  witches  said  were  re- 
quired to  open  the  lips  of  the  silent  gods. 

But  none  of  these  rites  brought  her  the 
slightest  comfort. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         325 

Darkness,  and  sudden  bursts  of  lurid  light, 
and  sanguinary  rites,  and  hollow  voices  in  the 
depths  of  caverns,  and  dim  apparitions,  and 
all  the  paraphernalia  of  vulgar  horrors,  had 
no  terrors  for  her.  Theysdid  not  thrill  her 
with  any  tremor,  or  quicken  the  beating  of 
her  heart.  Hope  might  indeed  have  dazzled 
her  perception,  but  not  fear.  And  such  hope 
as  would  have  stirred  her,  they  never  suc- 
ceeded in  awakening. 

She  believed  it  possible  that  those  old  un- 
known gods  might  be  moved  by  such  myste- 
rious rites.  But  when  the  magicians  professed 
to  evoke  the  dead,  and  give  her  messages 
from  her  sister,  she  only  smiled. 

"  Lethe  and  Styx  and  Elysium,  rivers  of 
fire  or  of  forgetfulness,  could  not  change  her 
thus !"  she  said.  "  If  she  is  there,  she  is  her- 
self there.  And  this  is  not  herself." 

The  daylight  and  reality  of  that  pure  love 
was  still  too  strong  around  her  heart  for 
shadows  of  the  twilight  to  deceive  her. 

Yet  she  went  from  one  vain  promise  to 
another.  Each  time  to  return  more  hopeless 
to  her  watch  by  the  urn  in  the  Pomcerium, 
and  there  to  keep  lonely  watch  again,  until  the 
loneliness  weighed  on  her  like  a  roof  of  solid 
darkness, — the  old  longing  came  back  on  her 
to  lift  it  or  pierce  it  by  any  means, — and  once 
more  she  would  roam  restlessly  about  to  seek 


326        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

some  new  entrance  into  that  solemn  under- 
world. 

At  last  one  name  was  mentioned  to  her,  as 
that  of  no  vulgar  witch,  but  of  a  mighty  for- 
eign sorceress,  who  had  learned  in  Thessaly 
spells  of  irresistible  potency,  which  would 
compel  the  infernal  powers,  and  even  Hecate 
herself,  to  surrender  the  secrets  of  the  under- 
world. 

One  still  gray  night  she  met  this  woman 
alone  by  appointment  in  a  clearing  of  a  wood 
near  the  Tiber,  a  place  avoided  by  day  and 
never  approached  at  night  by  the  people 
around  on  account  of  dark  memories  of  treach- 
erous murder  which  haunted  it. 

On  one  side  lay  a  pool,  left  by  the  river 
when  at  high  flood,  deep  and  sullen,  with  un- 
wholesome stagnant  growths,  only  swept  at 
rare  intervals  by  the  tide  of  fresh  waters. 

Around  was  a  marsh,  treacherous  with  mud 
and  black  pools,  where  frogs  croaked,  and 
slimy  creatures  crept  and  plashed.  Through 
the  shades  of  the  neighboring  bushes  rose  a 
cross  with  a  blackened  horror  still  hanging  on 
it.  Underneath  was  a  mound  of  dank  suspi- 
cious greenness ;  murderer  and  murdered,  it 
was  believed,  compelled  thus  perpetually  to 
haunt  each  other. 

The  sorceress  did  not  heed  Diodora  on  her 
first  approach.  She  seemed  to  be  gathering 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         327 

poisonous  herbs.  When  she  perceived  the 
deformed  girl,  she  rose  to  the  full  height  of 
her  majestic  stature.  Her  black  unkempt 
hair  fell  in  masses  on  her  shoulders,  making  a 
not  altogether  unintentional  resemblance  to 
the  snakes  of  the  Furies.  Her  dark  keen  eyes 
gleamed  with  a  penetrating  flash,  like  those 
of  a  beast  of  prey,  more  phosphorescent  than 
human,  as  they  rested  on  the  misshapen  figure. 

"  Such  as  thou,"  she  said,  in  a  hollow  voice, 
grasping  Diodora's  arm  with  a  muscular  grasp 
in  her  one  hand,  whilst  a  knife  gleamed  in  her 
other  hand  —  "such  as  thou  and  such  as  I 
ought  to  suit.  Of  such  are  the  sacrifices 
whose  blood  delights  those  we  seek." 

Diodora's  arm  was  bruised  in  her  twist,  but 
she  did  not  shrink.  Her  frank  deep  eyes  met 
those  of  the  sorceress  with  a  courage  as  de- 
termined as  her  own. 

"What  dost  thou  want  of  me?"  she  re- 
sumed. "  Love  potions  are  scarcely  for  thee. 
It  can  scarcely  be  a  question  of  a  rival !  Hast 
thou  an  enemy  thou  wouldst  be  avenged 
upon?" 

"  I  have  no  one  wrong  to  avenge,"  said  Di- 
odora.  "  The  world  has  not  been  my  friend. 
But  there  is  vengeance  and  misery  enough  in 
it  to  satisfy  the  most  malignant.  To  watch 
the  end  that  must  come  to  all  the  joy  would 
be  enough.  One  need  not  act." 


328        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have,  then?"  the  sor- 
ceress said.  "  Such  payment  as  thou  wouldst 
offer  is  not  likely  to  reward  me.  I  might 
have  given  thee  vengeance  for  nothing.  Such 
work  is  its  own  reward.  I,  at  all  events,  have 
wrongs  which  make  one  drop  of  vengeance 
sweet." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  make  any  one  more 
wretched,"  Diodora  said.  "  I  do  not  hope  to 
be  made  happy.  I  only  want  to  know.'1 

" To  know  what  is  to  happen  to  thee?"  ask- 
ed the  sorceress  scornfully.  "  Can  that  matter 
so  much  ?  Eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
die." 

"  To  know  what  is  happening  to  my  sister," 
was  the  low-toned  reply. 

Merely  to  mention  that  dear  name  to  such 
ears  seemed  to  desecrate  it ;  yet,  having  come 
so  far,  she  would  not  give  up  the  hope. 

"  They  tell  me  you  have  learned  potent 
charms  in  Thessaly,  strong  to  pierce  the  un- 
seen." 

"  Blood  of  innocent  babes,  eyelids  of  mur- 
derers, such  as  he  you  see  rotting  there  in  the 
thicket." 

And  she  ran  through  a  ghastly  catalogue 
of  horrors.  Diodora  shuddered  ;  but  her  lip 
curled  scornfully. 

"  I  thought  you  knew  some  mighty  words 
of  old !"  she  said  at  last,  turning  away.  "  I 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         339 

will  never  pollute  her  memory  with  vulgar 
witches  cruelties.  I  will  never  believe  she  is 
in  the  power  of  beings  who  could  be  propiti- 
ated by  such  abominations." 

"  You  will  never  believe  !"  laughed  the  sor- 
ceress scornfully.  "  Are  things  changed  by 
your  or  my  believing?  Will  your  not  believ- 
ing the  iniquities  of  Capreee  make  it  pure  ?  I 
know  at  least  some  of  the  secrets  of  that  under- 
world. Why  should  not  poisons  and  spells  be 
as  acceptable  to  the  Powers  of  the  ancient 
under- world  as  to  that?" 

Clcelia  Diodora  paused  a  moment.  Then 
she  said, — 

"  She  would  not  have  had  me  rescue  her 
even  from  Tiberius  by  such  means  as  you 
speak  of.  Now  that  I  cannot  rescue  her, 
wherever  she  is,  I  will  never  dishonor  her 
memory  by  gratifying  my  own  longing  to 
know,  at  such  a  cost." 

And  she  turned  away. 

But  again  the  strong  grasp  was  on  her  arm, 
and  this  time  the  knife  flashed,  and  between 
closed  teeth  the  sorceress  hissed  the  words 
before  her  face. 

"  You  are  an  Informer.  You  have  been 
bribed  to  betray  me  to  the  Emperor.  You 
shall  not  leave  this  so  easily.  There  is  some- 
thing you  can  give  me  worth  my  having. 
And  that  is  your  misshapen  self." 


330        V 10 SORT  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Cloelia  smiled,  something  of  the  old  radiant 
smile,  without  scorn  or  malice. 

"  Thus  you  would  fulfil  my  longing  indeed," 
she  said.  "  There  is  one  way  in  which  you 
can  open  to  me  secrets  I  long  for.  Dying,  I 
shall  know  ;  for  perhaps  I  shall  meet  my  dead. 
We  shall  know  together,  my  Vestal,  my  Beau- 
tiful !" 

The  fierce  grasp  relaxed,  and  the  fierce  fea- 
tures relaxed  also. 

"  Child,"  said  the  sorceress,  after  a  pause, 
"you  want  what  I  cannot  give.  You  have 
what  I  cannot  give — cannot  give  back  to  my- 
self." And  the  hard  hands  covered  the  rigid 
face.  "  You  have  love.  Such  courage  comes 
only  from  love,  and  from  despair.  When  love 
died  to  me,  I  found  another  way  from  despair. 
But  the  love  was  different.  Go,  and  come 
not  near  to  reproach  me  again." 

Slowly  the  maiden  retraced  her  steps 
through  the  solitary  wood,  and  not  till  late 
that  night  did  she  reach  the  place  of  her  vigils 
in  the  Pomcerium.  There  she  clasped  the 
marble  once  more,  and  felt  almost  as  if  she 
were  pressing  her  cheek  against  the  dear  sis- 
terly hand. 

"  See,  my  Beautiful,"  she  said ;  "  I  would 
not  purchase  even  tidings  of  thee  by  anything 
thou  wouldst  not  have  had  me  do.  Surely  I 
cannot  grow  nearer  thee  by  growing  wicked." 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         33! 

And  ere  long  she  fell  into  a  heavy  exhausted 
sleep,  with  something  of  the  feeling  of  one 
who  sleeps  on  a  battle-field  after  a  victory, 
leaning  against  the  stone. 

And  there  the  next  morning  old  Laon,  and 
Siguna,  returned  from  her  long  fruitless  search 
in  the  North  for  Olave,  found  the  poor  crouch- 
ing form  and  the  worn  face  pressed  against 
the  Vestal's  tomb.  They  watched  her  long 
in  silence.  Sleep  seemed  so  absolutely  the 
only  repose  left  her  on  earth,  that  at  first  they, 
who  loved  and  pitied  her  so  truly,  rather 
hoped  than  feared  that  sleep  might  prove  the 
long  last  sleep. 

Before  the  dawn  had  quite  passed  into  day 
she  awoke.  Half  rising,  but  still  leaning  against 
the  marble,  she  stretched  out  a  hand  to  each. 

"  You  have  not  found  anything !"  she  said, 
meeting  Siguna's  wistful  gaze.  "  I  have  lost 
everything.  Laon,  Laon  !"  she  exclaimed, 
passionately,  rising  and  throwing  herself  at 
his  feet,  "take  me  to  Athens.  Socrates  was 
content  with  guessing,  thinking.  But  that 
was  only  for  himself.  I  must  know !  know ! 
Somewhere,  somewhere  the  secret  must  have 
pierced  through,  if  there  is  any  secret  to 
know.  Let  me  be  initiated  in  the  mysteries. 
Men  say  they  speak  tidings  there  of  the  dead. 
Take  me  to  Athens,  to  the  ancient  mysteries, 
that  I  may  know." 


332        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  Child,"  he  said,  mournfully,  "  was  not 
Socrates  at  Athens  ?  What  could  the  myste- 
ries there  tell  thee  but  that  thousands  of  years 
since  men  hoped,  as  thou  and  I  must  hope 
now  ?  There  is  but  one  way  by  which  men 
enter  in  and  know." 

She  fixed  her  eyes  with  a  deprecatory  look 
on  his,  almost  as  if  defending  herself  against 
an  accusation  of  cowardice.  "  I  think  you  are 
right,"  she  said.  "  But  that  way  I  promised 
her  never  to  open  to  myself.  She  made  me 
promise,  for  her  sake  and  for  yours,  Laon." 

The  old  man's  eyes  moistened. 

"  She  thought  of  old  Laon  then  at  the  last," 
he  said. 

"  And  of  Siward,"  she  replied.  "  Is  her 
wish  fulfilled  ?" 

"  At  first  the  proud  boy  had  a  struggle  with 
himself,"  Laon  said,  with  a  choked  voice  ;  "  he 
had  all  but  earned  his  own  emancipation. 
And  he  remembered  words  she  spoke  to  him 
years  since  in  my  old  workshop.  Freedom, 
she  said,  was  better  earned  than  given.  But 
at  last  he  consented  to  accept  the  boon.  From 
her  dying  hands,  he  told  me  to  tell  you,  he 
deemed  his  freedom  a  more  sacred  treasure 
than  if  he  had  won  it  with  his  own.  There 
was  a  strange  bond  between  those  two,"  he 
added.  "  The  boy  has  moved  about  gently 
and  gravely  as  a  woman  since  he  heard  she 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         333 

was  gone.  He  said  the  sweetest  light  the 
world  had  held,  or  would  ever  hold,  for  him, 
had  died  out  of  it  for  ever." 

And  Siguna  the  mother  did  not  resent  the 
words. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


NCE  more  Siguna  was  sailing  east- 
ward over  the  Mediterranean  Sea. 
Her  last  voyage  had  been  as  a  slave 
in  the  household  of  Germanicus  the 
Conqueror,  with  Si  ward  and  little  Hilda,  all 
in  bondage. 

Thirteen  years  had  passed,  and  now  the 
three  were  free. 

Siward  was  keeping  the  armourer's  work- 
shop at  Antioch,  which  was  to  be  the  support 
of  his  mother,  of  old  Laon,  and  of  Cloelia  Dio- 
dora.  But  it  was  to  Hilda's  little  household 
the  mother's  heart  most  yearned,  to  the  three 
fair  children  growing  up  around  her  child  and 
Callias. 

Siguna  had  grown  graver  and  more  ab- 
stracted since  her  fruitless  search  for  Olave  in 
the  North.  Not  that  the  hope  of  yet  seeing 
him  again  in  life  had  died  from  her  heart.  It 
had  only  been  driven  deeper  in.  Some  day 
she  still  believed  she  should  hear  the  familiar 

(334) 


VICTORY  OF  TEE   VANQUISHED.         335 

voice  again.  And  it  was  her  fixed  intention 
(though  she  communicated  it  to  no  one),  when 
she  had  seen  her  children  at  Antioch,  to  re- 
turn and  dwell  at  Rome,  that  not  one  com- 
pany of  captives  might  arrive  from  the  North 
which  she  might  not  see  and  question. 

The  sight  of  the  Grecian  cities  and  islands 
recalled  to  her  many  things  in  the  past.  She 
thought  of  the  brilliant  life  cut  short,  and  the 
noble  manly  form  laid  low  at  Epidaphne.  She 
thought  of  the  lofty  spirit,  then  so  full  of  song 
and  love,  that  could  not  be  broken  by  years 
of  peril  and  suspicion  and  petty  household 
tyranny,  now  hopelessly  wearing  itself  out  in 
the  solitary  exile  of  Pandataria.  She  hoped 
with  trembling  that  the  little  share  of  pros- 
perity and  happiness  which  had  come  to  her 
Hilda  was  not  bright  enough  to  arouse  the 
"  envy  of  the  gods." 

Many  consultations,  meanwhile,  did  she  and 
Laon  hold  how  it  would  be  possible  to  awaken, 
not  to  pleasure  (that  mattered  little),  but  to 
something  of  living  interest,  the  poor  bereaved 
girl. 

Laon's  heart  was  very  heavy  on  her  ac- 
count. He  was  conscious  of  having  felt  a 
little  thrill  of  satisfaction  at  the  thought  of 
having  his  child  entirely  to  himself. 

For  some  time  he  would  not  confess  it ;  but 
at  last,  as  they  left  Athens,  he  said  to  Siguna, 


336        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

into  whose  quiet  heart  every  one  naturally 
poured  their  troubles, — 

"  I  had  thought,  foolish  old  man  that  I  was, 
that  I  could  yet  give  her  bright  days.  I  had 
furnished  the  little  home  at  Antioch  as  daintily 
for  her  as  I  knew  how,  and  had  reserved  a 
little  stock  of  coin  wherewith  she  might  pur- 
chase those  fancies  and  finishes  that  women 
love,  that  she  might  think  she  had  made  it 
bright  for  me  herself,  as  women  like  to  do.  I 
had  visions  of  her  rich  soft  voice  ringing 
through  the  rooms  in  her  old  Latin  lays  and 
Greek  songs,  making  it  more  musical  to  me 
than  all  the  groves  of  Epidaphne.  And  I 
thought  Siward  would  listen  as  we  worked. 
And  now  she  is  not  here  at,  all.  Far  nearer 
me  when  I  was  at  Antioch  toiling  for  her,  and 
she  at  Rome  with  the  Vestal.  See  how  her 
spirit  is  looking  far,  far  away !  Seeing,  she 
sees  not ;  and  hearing,  she  hears  not ;  living, 
she  lives  not.  The  whole  world  has  become 
ghostly  to  her." 

"  She  is  very  gentle  and  kind,"  said  Siguna, 
apologetically.  "  She  tries  hard  to  be  with 
us,  and  do  what  she  can  for  you." 

"  The  more  she  tries  to  hide  it  from  me,  the 
more  I  feel  it,"  he  replied.  "  She  will  work 
for  me,  read  to  me,  listen,  talk  for  me ;  any- 
thing but  live.  The  little  fragment  of  her  life 
and  love  I  had  while  her  sister  lived,  was 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         337 

f  worth  more  than  the  whole  of  her  thoughts 
and  time  now.  For  it  was  a  living  portion  of 
her  living  self.  And  now  she  is  but  as  a  ghost 
unnaturally  compelled  by  some  witch's  art  to 
animate  again  a  wounded  body  it  was  panting 
to  leave,  to  erect  itself,  and  move  and  speak 
'in  a  ghastly  semblance  of  life  far  more  terrible 
than  death." 

"  Even  here,  in  this  Athens,"  he  continued, 
"  that  we  loved  to  speak  about  together  in 
the  old  days  at  Rome,  as  if  to  see  it  together 
would  be  a  joy  too  great  for  her  to  hope  for, 
she  cared  for  none  of  the  glorious  temples, 
the  hills,  the  battle-fields,  the  statues,  the 
groves  I  had  told  her  of  until  she  knew  them 
familiarly  as  the  way  from  the  Ccelian  to  her' 
sister  in  the  Temple  of  Vesta,  or  to  my  work- 
shop. Only  once  she  awoke  from  that  cour- 
teous attention  in  which  she  sits  as  a  guest 
perpetually  entertained  at  some  stranger's 
board,  to  something  of  her  old  eager  intensity. 
It  was  in  the  cave  of  the  Eumenides.  '  Men 
believed  this  was  a  portal  to  the  under-world/ 
she  said.  '  Here  I  should  like  to  stay  and 
die.'  And  she  knelt  down  and  embraced  the 
stones.  That  gloomy  cave  was  fairer  to  her 
than  the  Parthenon.  It  was  more  homelike 
than  that  little  home  at  Antioch  will  ever  be, 
the  home  I  have  been  preparing  her  with  such 
love  and  hope  for  years." 
15 


338        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Thus  these  three  wrecks,  tossed  together 
by  winds  and  waves  from  shores  so  far  apart, 
drifted  on  to  the  shores  of  Syria,  knowing 
nothing  of  what  awaited  them  there. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

HE  autumn  sun  was  shining  tranquil- 
ly on  Judaea ;  in  the  valleys,  on 
silent  fields,  lately  laughing  and 
singing  with  the  songs  of  harvest, 
now  gray  with  stubble ;  on  the  hill-sides,  on 
lonely  vineyards,  with  their  gathered  grapes 
and  their  deserted  lodges  and  towers,  lately 
echoing  with  the  shouts  of  the  vintage  ;  or  on 
olive-groves  lightened  of  their  fruit.  The 
corn,  the  wine,  and  the  oil,  had  been  gathered 
in.  And  the  blank  and  stillness  of  the  old  age 
of  autumn  had  succeeded  the  festivities  of  its 
youth. 

Yet  there  seemed  to  the  three  travellers 
something  more  than  the  usual  autumnal 
quiet  over  the  land.  In  the  villages  the  clat- 
ter of  their  asses'  hoofs  on  the  Roman  roads 
brought  out  only  a  few  women  and  little 
children,  and  occasionally  an  infirm  old  man, 
to  gaze  on  them. 

(339) 


340        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Now  and  then  an  eager  group  passed  them 
laden  with  bunches  of  citron,  with  palm 
branches,  or  boughs  of  the  gray  willows  from 
the  brooks. 

"  It  is  some  feast  of  the  Jews,"  Laon  said ; 
"  some  of  the  patriotic  gatherings  by  which 
their  wise  old  Lawgiver  bound  them  to- 
gether." 

When  they  reached  the  City  they  found  it. 
transformed  into  a  garden,  into  a  semblance 
of  that  golden  Jerusalem  where  the  Paradise 
and  the  City  are  blended ;  with  the  fountains 
clear  as  crystal,  the  leaves  of  the  trees  with 
twelve  manner  of  fruit  in  the  midst  of  the 
street,  and  the  light  of  the  perpetual  festival 
making  night  as  bright  as  day. 

The  flat  roofs  were  embowered  in  thick 
foliage.  The  courts  of  the  houses  and  of  the 
Temple,  and  even  of  the  streets,  were  green 
with  branches  entwined  into  temporary  dwel- 
lings. The  whole  city  had  become  a  forest, 
the  inhabitants  children  of  the  forest.  The 
imagination  of  Siguna,  the  child  of  the  North- 
ern forest,  went  back  to  her  old  woodland 
home  in  the  Lippe  valley. 

"  Were  those  Jews  also,"  she  asked  of  Laon, 
"  once  foresters,  as  we  Germans  are  ?  Do 
they  keep  this  feast  in  remembrance  of  their 
early  home  ?" 

But  Laon  was  never  communicative   con- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         341 

cerning  the  Jews ;  and  Siguna  was  left  to  her 
own  conjectures  for  an  explanation. 

Few  of  the  branches  were  such  as  her  own 
forests  could  have  furnished.  Glossy  myrtle 
boughs  were  entwined  with  gray  olive 
branches  ;  some  of  the  huts  were  roofed  alto- 
gether with  palms ;  some  leafy  bowers  there 
were  of  sycamore  and  pine.  There  was  a 
variety  in  the  size  as  in  the  foliage.  The  Feast 
being  a  family  festival,  as  those  of  the  Hebrew 
nation  were,  these  bowers  were  little  tempor- 
ary homes,  adapted  to  the  numbers  or  the 
wealth  of  the  family :  some,  humble  little 
dwarf  huts ;  some,  vaults  of  greenery  twenty 
feet  high. 

Evening  and  morning  joyous  bands  made 
processions  through  the  streets,  carrying 
large  bunches  of  fruit ;  fathers,  mothers, 
youths,  and  maidens,  and  little  children. 

In  the  morning  vessels  of  water  were  car- 
ried from  a  fountain  of  Siloam,  and  poured, 
with  wine,  in  libations  on  the  altar. 

At  night  the  city  was  lighted  up  with  count- 
less, lamps  and  torches  gleaming  among  the 
green  bowers,  or  borne  with  song  and  dance 
through  the  streets,  as  they  went  in  festive 
procession  by  the  Beautiful  Gate  to  the  Court 
of  the  Women.  Then  all  the  light  of  the  city 
seemed  concentrated  around  the  Four  Great 
Lamps  which  illuminated  the  Temple,  and 


342        VICTORY  OF  THff  VANQUISHED. 

cast  their  radiance  far  and  wide  from  the 
Temple  heights  over  cloister,  courts,  and  em- 
bowered roofs. 

There,  around  the  Great  Light  of  the  Tem- 
ple of  the  City,  while, the  priests  played  on 
instruments  and  chanted  sacred  songs  on  the 
steps  leading  to  the  inner  courts,  the  nation 
gathered  together  in  families.  When  the 
music  of  the  priests  ceased,  the  people  waved 
their  boughs  of  golden  fruit,  the  citrons  shin- 
ing among  the  glossy  leaves ;  and  the  sacred 
courts  echoed  with  family  and  national  rejoic- 
ing, with  the  dance  and  song  of  the  people, 
who  were  taught  (had  they  only  understood 
it)  to  connect  all  their  rejoicings  with  home 
and  with  God. 

The  joy  of  harvest,  the  joy  of  rest  after  toil, 
of  a  home  after  long  wanderings,  in  memory 
of  that  first  feast  of  tabernacles,  when  their 
fathers  at  Succoth  left  the  brown  tents  of  the 
wilderness  for  the  leafy  bowers  of  their  own 
promised  land, — all  this  was  flowing  in  symbol 
beneath  the  hilarity  of  that  most  poetical  fes- 
tival. And  to  many  a  thoughtful  eye,  no 
doubt,  which  had  "  kept  watch  o'er  man's 
mortality,"  it  brought  thoughts  of  the  tran- 
sitory nature  of  all  earthly  homes  (all  indeed 
tabernacles,  so  soon  to  be  taken  down,  and 
fading  before  they  fall) :  vibrations  of  the 
deep  music  of  the  ancient  singers  trembling 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         343 

through  all  the  mirth, — "  A  stranger  and  so- 
journer  with  thee,  as  all  thy  fathers  were ; " 
perhaps  also  dim  visions  of  a  rest  yet  to 
come. 

Even  Cloelia  Diodor^a  (by  a  perversity  in- 
herent in  woman,  Laon  thought)  woke  up  to 
something  like  interest  in  this  strange  trans- 
formation of  the  City  into  the  Forest. 

"  Legends,  mere  legends  of  an  obscure, 
boastful  tribe,"  Laon  would  say  in  answer  to 
her  inquiries.  "  Why  should  you  wish  to 
know  ?  They  have  a  tradition  of  years  of 
wandering  through  a  great  wilderness,  of 
bread  rained  on  them  from  heaven,  of  desert 
rocks  made  to  burst  forth  in  living  springs  for 
their  thirst.  The  histories  of  all  people  have 
their  birth-place  in  some  far-off  land  of  mist 
and  marvel.  All  people  have  their  festivities, 
more  or  less  mystical  and  rapturous,  at  the 
ingathering  of  the  harvest,  in  spring,  and  in 
autumn.  Only  this  people  has  interwoven  its 
history  more  skilfully  than  most  with  this 
worship  of  Nature,  and  has  the  advantage  of 
purifying  its  festivities  by  coming  to  them  in 
families." 

But  the  whole  joyous  scene  made  a  deep 
impression  on  the  Roman  maiden.  Unlike 
most  joy,  it  did  not  jar  upon  her.  There  ran 
through  it  a  tone  of  patriotic  fervor  and  of 
religious  solemnity  which  touched  her. 


344         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Moreover,  she  could  not  get  out  of  her 
mind  the  sacred  songs  of  the  old  Jew  by  the 
Fountain  of  Egeria. 

She  interpreted  this  national  rejoicing 
through  the  look  of  love  and  joy  she  had 
seen  on  his  face. 

And  again  and  again  she  entreated  Siguna 
to  tell  her  every  detail  of  that  stranger's  dy- 
ing hours ;  again  and  again,  as  a  child  listens 
unwearied  to  a  favorite  story. 

The  story  of  that  spirit  meeting  death  so 
solemnly  awake,  fearing  as  Siguna  had  never 
seen  any  of  her  people  fear,  hoping  as  none 
they  knew  had  ever  hoped,  fearing  and  loving 
some  One  he  was  going  to  meet  in  that  un- 
seen world,  was  more  to  Diodora  than  any- 
thing. 

And  here  in  this  festive  City,  by  that  Temple 
towards  which  the  old  man  used  to  turn,  the 
tones  of  his  thin  feeble  voice  came  back  to 
her,  as  if  echoed  by  the  voice  of  a  great  mul- 
titude ;  until  one  night  she  said  to  Siguna,  as 
to  Laon  at  the  cave  of  Eumenides, — 

"  Here  I  should  like  to  stay  and  live  or 
die.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  the  entrance  to  that 
unseen  world  might  after  all  be  here,  even 
here." 

Neither  of  them  knew  anything  of  the  sacri- 
ficial rites  on  which  these  festivities  were 
based ;  how,  evening  and  morning  the  slain 


VICTORY  OF  TEE   VANQUISHED.         345 

lamb  yielded  up  its  meek  life  on  the  altar; 
and  not  wine  only  and  pure  water,  but  the 
blood  of  a  spotless  victim  had  to  flow  there. 

Not  sheaves  of  ripe  corn  only  and  bunches 
of  golden  fruit,  not  joy  only  and  thanksgiving 
and  the  voice  of  melody  waved  and  echoed 
through  those  cloistered  courts.  Life  was 
sacrificed  there  daily,  not  with  ease  and  joy, 
but  in  pain  and  death. 

The  worship  of  that  Temple  was  no  glitter- 
ing garlanded  ice-palace,  built  over  the  un- 
recognized abyss. 

It  dared  to  recognize  the  chasms  which  rend 
humanity  without  and  within.  It  dared  to 
look  in  the  face  the  terrible  mystery  which 
characterizes  our  race  from  all  creatures  in 
the  universe,  separating  it  from  the  instinctive 
innocent  life  below,  and  from  the  holy  love  of 
the  life  above.  It  dared  to  look  this  terrible 
distinction  in  the  face,  and  to  name  it ; — to  call 
it  sin,  a  "  treading  over "  holy  barriers  of 
Divine  law,  a  ''falling  short"  of  a  holy  ideal 
of  goodness,  a  "  going  astray  "  from  the  living 
God. 

It  dared  to  call  this  world  not 'a  Paradise, 
but  a  wilderness  ;  and  our  race  a  race  of  exiles 
and  pilgrims  ;  and  to  appeal  to  generation 
after  generation  as  wandering  and  fallen  from 
something  they  should  and  might  have  been. 

It  dared  perpetually  to  bear  witness  to  this 
15* 


346         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

mystery  of  sin  and  need  of  reconciliation,  by 
the  perpetual  sacrifices  offered  in  its  Temple. 

And  at  the  same  time  it  dared  to  bear  per- 
petual witness  by  its  prophets  to  the  worth- 
lessness  of  these  sacrifices,  in  themselves,  to 
please  Him  who  could  only  be  pleased  by  the 
sacrifice  of  self,  by  the  death  of  sin  and  the 
life  of  righteousness,  by  ceasing  to  do  evil  and 
learning  to  do  well. 

Of  this  the  Roman  maiden  and  the  German 
mother  as  yet  knew  little. 

But  Laon,  going  in  and  out  among  the 
crowd,  impatient  to  pursue  his  journey,  yet 
unable  in  the  excitement  of  the  national  fes- 
tival to  find  any  means  of  doing  so,  began  to 
be  aware  of  a  tremor  of  unusual  expectation 
agitating  the  multitudes  to  and  fro,  as  if 
something  were  wanting  to  complete  the 
feast. 

Not  loud,  eager  discussion  as  of  some 
political  event,  acknowledged  and  expected 
by  all ;  not  dark,  fierce  words,  as  in  one  of 
the  countless  national  conspiracies  against  the 
Roman  rule,  which  kept  the  vacillating  gov- 
ernor in  such  ceaseless  anxiety  between  his 
desire  to  please  the  Emperor  and  the  Jews. 
The  province  for  the  time  was  tranquil,  what- 
ever volcanic  fires  might  be  slumbering  be- 
neath. The  considerate  policy  of  Tiberius 
Caesar  in  keeping  the  same  governor  longer 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         347 

than  usual  in  office,  that  the  publicans  who 
lived  on  the  provinces,  "  as  flies  on  a  wounded 
man,"  being  left  in  peace,  might  be  satiated, 
had  in  its  measure  succeeded.  The  images 
of  Csesar  and  his  Eagle  standards  were  still 
kept  far  from  Jerusalem.  Pilate  having  irri- 
tated the  Jews  by  transferring  his  army  into 
Jerusalem,  and  venturing  to  insult  their  relig- 
ion as  no  previous  governor  had  done,  by  in- 
troducing the  "  idolatrous  "  standards  into  the 
Holy  City,  had  taught  them  the  lesson  by 
which  they  afterwards  so  fatally  profited,  that 
to  a  sufficiently  determined  resistance  he 
would  yield  any  conviction  of  his  own. 

It  was  no  ordinary  political  excitement 
which  stirred  the  crowd  at  that  feast.  Yet 
Laon  became  more  and  more  aware  of  an  un- 
easy movement  of  expectation  beneath  all  the 
tumult  of  feasting.  "  Much  murmuring  among 
the  people ;  "  like  the  rustle  of  leaves  before  a 
tempest — like  the  stir  of  birds  and  breezes  be- 
fore a  dawn — like  the  low  murmur  of  a  crowd 
waiting  for  some  expected  procession  of  a 
prince  or  a  conqueror,  of  whose  approach 
there  have  been  long  rumors. 

"  Muck  murmuring  among  the  people  concern- 
ing Him''  Those  in  high  places  "  seeking 
Him  at  the  feast,"  with  no  friendly  purpose. 

The  people  divided,  some  saying,  "  He  is  a 
good  man  ;  "  others,  "  Nay  ;  but  He  deceiveth 


348         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

the  people."  Yet  no  man  speaking  openly, 
because  of  the  ill-will  of  those  in  high  places, 
not  among  the  Roman  rulers,  but  among  their 
own. 

"  They  seem  expecting  some  great  One  in 
the  City,"  he  said  one  evening  to  the  Roman 
girl.  In  a  moment  the  listless  look  passed 
from  Cloelia  Diodora's  face. 

"  Now  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly.     "  Here  ?  " 

Laon  half  wished  to  withdraw  his  words,  so 
intense  was  the  earnestness  of  her  questioning 
eyes.  And  yet  he  could  not  but  rejoice  to 
see  her  awakened  to  hope  once  more  by  any- 
thing. 

"  Can  it  be  the  King  the  old  man  was  look- 
ing for?  "  she  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  The  Jews  are  always  looking  for  a  King — 
a  Deliverer ;  always  thinking  they  have  found 
one ;  and  always  finding  their  mistake.  Noth- 
ing like  the  Roman  lictor's  rods  for  crushing 
fanaticism  !  But  just  now  it  scarcely  seems  a 
King  they  are  looking  for.  The  people  speak 
of  a  "good  man  ;  "  of  words  unlike  any  man 
ever  spake  before  ;  of  a  life  of  ceaseless  acts 
of  kindness,  of  cures  of  the  sick  and  maimed, 
and  distributions  of  food — miraculous,  some 
say,  as  if  the  old  childlike  days  of  legend  and 
marvel  were  coming  back  ;  which  is  certainly 
not  likely  in  this  old,  hard,  incredulous  world 
of  ours." 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         349 

Cloelia  drank  in  every  word.  But  she  said 
no  more. 

The  next  day,  the  old  man  came  back  more 
silent  than  usual.  During  the  evening  meal 
he  said  nothing,  or  only  some  light  words 
about  their  journey. 

Afterwards  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
chamber  restlessly.  He  felt  Clcelia's  ques- 
tioning eyes  on  him,  and  she  felt  the  uneasi- 
ness he  would  not  confess,  but  knew  of  old 
how  inconvenient  questions  were  apt  to  seal, 
instead  of  opening  her  old  friend's  lips.  At 
last  he  asked  her  to  recite  him  something  from 
one  of  Plato's  Dialogues. 

She  began,  but  could  not  proceed.  The 
familiar  words  recalled  too  much.  She  sat 
mute  and  tearless,  with  that  look  into  the  dis- 
tance which  he  dreaded. 

Then  he  forgot  all  but  the  desire  to  soothe 
her  and  recall  her  to  the  present. 

"  The  multitudes  are  more  restless  than  ever 
to-day,"  he  said.  "They  say  He  for  whom 
they  were  looking  has  come,  and  has  been 
teaching  openly  in  the  midst  of  the  Temple. 
That  He  has  accused  the  Jewish  Council  of 
seeking  to  kill  Him.  Some  of  the  people  deny 
this,  and  say  it  is  a  delusion.  But  some  mur- 
mur that  it  is  true." 

And  again,  afterwards,  when  he  came  in 
finally  at  night,  the  old  man  said, — 


350         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  He  seems  to  have  been  right  in  his  appre- 
hensions. Some  strange  spell  seems  to  lie  on 
rulers  and  people.  The  Council  has  sought 
to  take  Him.  He  has  no  followers  to  defend 
Him;  no  friends,  that  I  can  hear  of,  but  a  few 
unarmed  Galileans.  He  does  not  seem  even 
to  seek  to  reign,  or  to  displace  any  one  who 
is  reigning.  Why,  then,  should  the  rulers 
of  His  people  dread  and  hate  Him  ?  Or 
why,  if  they  hate  Him,  can  they  not  silence 
Him?" 

"  Laon,"  said  the  Roman  girl,  "  can  not  we 
hear  Him  ?  I  would  give  worlds  to  listen  to 
Him." 

"  He  speaks  in  the  Temple,"  Laon  said. 
"  No  Gentile  may  enter  there.  To-day  some 
of  the  people  are  enraged  against  Him,  be- 
cause He  said  He  would  be  with  them  but  for 
a  little  while  longer,  and  would  go  whither 
they  could  not  come.  They  think  He  meant 
he  would  go  and  teach  the  Gentiles." 

"The  Gentiles?  Ourselves!"  Clcelia  ex- 
claimed, starting  up,  her  whole  face  brighten- 
ing. "  Can  this  be  possible  ?  " 

"I  know  not.  What  can  it  matter?"  said 
Laon,  scornfully.  "  Would  you  leave  Socrates 
and  Plato  for  this  Galilean?" 

"  I  never  heard  Socrates  or  Plato,"  she  said, 
sadly.  "  If  they  were  living,  and  I  could  ask 
them  anything,  it  might  be  different.  But 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         35! 

they  always  seem  to  stop  just  when  I  most 
want  to  know  more." 

"  Impatient  heart  of  woman !"  Laon  ex- 
claimed. "  I  thought  my  Diodora  had  been 
wiser,  and  would  be  content  to  poise  herself 
patiently  on  probabilities  and  wait.  I  thought 
there  was  one  woman  above  the  vulgar  crav- 
ings of  religion,  able  to  live  on  truth ! " 

The  next  evening  Laon  came  home  appar- 
ently relieved. 

"  At  last  we  may  escape  from  this  fanatical 
city  !  "  he  said.  "  The  Feast  is  over,  and  my 
mind  at  last  is  at  rest  about  this  Galilean.  No 
calm  patience  of  waiting  there,  no  wise  con- 
tentment with  probabilities.  No  second  So- 
crates is  here.  No  patient  seeker  after  truth, 
refusing  to  be  called  wise,  declaring  himself 
only  a  lover  of  wisdom,  turning  his  followers 
from  himself  to  truth. 

"  Every  day  of  this  feast  the  festivities  have 
concentrated  around  two  symbols.  Every 
morning,  before  breaking  fast,  they  have 
drawn  fresh  water  from  the  rocky  well  in  the 
valley  below  the  Temple,  and  poured  it  with 
a  tumult  of  joy  on  the  altar;  in  memory,  some 
say,  of  the  thirst  of  their  forefathers  having 
been  quenched  by  water  miraculously  smitten 
from  a  rock  in  the  desert. 

"  Every  evening  there  has  been  music  and 


352          VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

dancing  around  the  Four  Great  Lamps  in  the 
Women's  Court  of  the  Temple. 

"  And  to-day  they  say  this  Galilean  cried 
aloud  in  that  court  of  the  Temple,  '  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  Me  and  drink ;'  pro- 
claiming openly  that  He  Himself  is  able  to 
satisfy  the  thirst  of  every  man  ;  and  that  He 
Himself  is  the  Light  of  the  world.  No  resem- 
blance to  Socrates  there  ! " 

"  It  was  much  to  promise !  "  said  Clcelia. 
"  For  there  is  much  darkness  in  the  world,  and 
much  thirst  in  the  hearts  of  men.  Have  they 
silenced  Him  ?  " 

"  Silenced  Him  !  No  !"  said  the  old  man 
impatiently.  "  The  people  are  infatuated.  The 
debates  and  divisions  among  them  run  higher 
than  ever.  At  last  their  rulers  sent  armed 
officers  into  the  Temple  to  take  Him  as  He 
taught.  It  does  not  seem  that  either  He  or 
any  one  offered  any  resistance.  But  the  armed 
men  stood  paralyzed,  they  say,  before  Him, 
listening — listening  like  all  the  rest.  I  did  not 
hear  that  He  professed  to  startle  them  by  any 
wonder-working.  There  is  a  great  rumor  of 
His  miracles.  But  just  then  there  was  noth- 
ing of  the  kind.  Nothing  but  words.  They 
say  He  speaks  with  authority,  and  not  as  their 
scribes.  The  armed  men  went  back  to  the 
magistrates  without  their  prisoner.  And  all 
they  could  say  in  their  defence  was,  that 


VICTORY  OF  TIIE  VANQUISHED.         353 

'  never  man  spake  like  this  man.'  A  fanatical 
people  !  A  people  of  dangerous  enthusiasms ! 
And  fanaticism  is  infectious,"  said  Laon  im- 
patiently. "  I  will  not  stay  another  day  in  the 
place.  The  feast  is  over.  People  can  attend 
to  ordinary  affairs  again.  To-morrow  we  start 
for  Tiberias  and  Antioch." 

"  Laon !  "  Clcelia  exclaimed,  "  let  me  stay 
here.  I  would  give  the  world  to  hear  that 
voice.  I  am  only  a  poor  impatient  woman, 
and  long  for  one  word — only  one  word — from 
some  one  who  could  speak  with  authority." 

But  Laon  was  immovable. 

"  If  there  were  any  truth  in  this,"  he  said  at 
last,  "they  would  hear  more  of  it,  and  she 
might  come  again.  And,  meantime,  nothing 
should  induce  him  to  expose  her  to  any  of 
these  detestable  Oriental  superstitions.  Had 
not  the  Jews  and  Egyptians  been  long  since 
banished  from  Rome  for  the  best  reasons? 
Moreover,  this  Galifean,  it  was  said,  only 
taught  Jews,  only  healed  Jews.  What  was 
the  use  of  lingering  outside  the  walls  of  that 
Temple,  just  to  hear  Jewish  rumors  of  what 
was  said  and  done  inside  ?  Perhaps  it  might 
prove  true  that  He  intended  to  go  to  the 
Gentiles  to  teach  the  Gentiles.  In  that  case, 
she  was  more  likely  to  hear  him  at  Antioch 
than  at  Jerusalem." 

Still  she  pleaded  to  be  suffered  to  stay,  till 


354        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

at  last  Laon  had  recourse  to  an  argument 
strong  from  his  lips,  because  he  was  too 
generous  to  use  it  without  reluctance.  He 
reminded  her  of  the  life  he  had  rescued,  of 
the  long  toil  he  had  gone  through  for  her ; 
and,  lastly,  how  her  dying  sister  had  given  her 
as  a  last  charge  to  do  what  she  could  for  him. 

Duty,  as  she  interpreted  it,  prevailed  with 
the  Roman  maiden ;  and  the  next  day  Laon, 
Clcelia,  and  Siguna  went  northward  to 
Antioch,  hoping  in  their  way  to  see  Hilda  and 
Callias  at  Tiberias. 

But  all  the  way  the  feeling  grew  stronger 
and  stronger  in  Diodora's  heart  that  she  was 
flying  from  the  only  voice  in  the  world  that 
could  tell  her  of  her  dead,  or  bring  one  drop 
of  living  water  to  her  parched  heart. 

Up  and  down  the  rocky  hills  of  Judasa,  as 
they  rode  in  silence  one  after  another  along 
the  stony  paths,  by  every  village  fountain, 
through  every  starry  night,  those  words  rang 
in  her  heart, — "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him 
come  unto  Me  and  drink ; "  and  "  I  am  the 
Light  of  the  world." 

"  Of  the  world  !  "  she  thought ;  "  that  is  more 
than  Judsea  and  Galilee.  Perhaps  more  than 
this  world,  than  all  the  visible  world  to- 
gether." 

Memories  of  healing  and  of  teaching 
lingered  around  many  a  city  and  village 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         355 

through  which  they  passed.  Not  through 
Judsea  and  Galilee  only,  but  through  Samaria, 
sacred  footsteps  had  been  before  them. 

One  Samaritan  at  least  was  walking  with 
healthy  limbs  amongst  those  hills,  who  had 
knelt  there  once  a  suppliant  leper ;  and  once 
again  a  grateful  healed  man  at  the  feet  of  the 
Healer. 

One  Samaritan  woman,  at  least,  could  not 
have  forgotten  the  voice  of  Him  who  had 
known  all  the  sin  of  her  life,  and  satisfied  all 
the  thirst  of  her  heart. 

In  one  city  of  Samaria,  at  least,  after  two 
days  of  those  marvelous  words,  confirmed,  as 
far  as  we  know,  by  no  miracle,  the  Galilean 
had  been  welcomed  as  "the  Christ,  the 
Saviour,"  not  of  the  Jews  only,  "  but  of  the 
world." 

But  Laon  would  not  linger.  He  hurried  on 
as  if  he  felt  there  were  enchantment  in  the  air, 
and  his  child  might  be  fascinated  away  from 
him  against  her  will  and  his. 

Around  the  shores  of  Galilee  they  delayed 
longer.  Laon  hoped  to  have  found  Callias  the 
Greek  sculptor.  He  had  been  there  not  long 
before,  and  was  expected  again.  So  at  Ti- 
berias they  stayed  some  days. 

And  there  again  the  traces  of  that  life  could 
not  be  hidden. 


356        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Not  among  Rabbis  or  rulers,  or  only  among 
men,  had  those  years  of  teaching  and  healing 
penetrated. 

Everywhere,  in  village  and  city,  might  be 
found  traces  of  His  presence. 

Women  were  there  who  had  brought  their 
babes  to  Him  to  be  blessed ;  little  children 
that  had  felt  His  arms  folded  around  them, 
and  had  been  conscious  of  the  love,  if  they 
could  not  comprehend  the  blessing.  In  every 
village  were  some  who  had  felt  the  glow  of 
healthy  life  consciously  bounding  again  in 
their  veins  at  His  touch ;  deaf  ears  opened  to 
hear  the  murmuring  ripples  of  that  lake,  the 
stir  of  busy  life  on  its  shores, — the  tones  of 
His  voice ;  blind  eyes  unsealed  to  all  the  exu- 
berant beauty  of  that  fertile  land  ;  one,  at  least, 
that  had  been  recalled  from  the  land  that  old 
world  deemed  a  land  of  shadows. 

In  the  streets  of  Tiberias,  where  they  so- 
journed, it  was  probable  His  feet  had  not 
trodden.  The  tyrant  who  had  murdered  John 
the  Baptist  was  its  founder  and  its  prince.  It 
was  a  mere  copy  of  Greek  cities,  with  a  ser- 
vile Latin  name ;  the  residence  of  a  corrupt 
mongrel  court,  and  with  such  a  population 
as  a  hot-bed  of  foreign  civilization  would 
foster. 

But  every  village  on  the  little  bays,  with  its 
little  pier  or  beach  for  fishing-boats,  had  its 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         357 

rumours  of  His  recent  words  and  deeds,  and 
of  the  inexplicable  power  of  his  presence. 

An  affectionate  hope  awoke  in  Siguna's 
mind.  Slow  to  receive  new  affections  or  new 
teaching,  what  she  had  heard  of  those  years 
of  healing  had  gradually  sunk  down  deep  into 
the  steadfast  heart  of  the  German  mother. 

Looking  at  the  sorrowful  deformed  Roman 
maiden,  visions  came  to  her  of  the  possible 
resting  of  those  kind  and  mighty  hands  on  the 
shrunken  form,  of  a  transfiguring  of  the 
shrivelled  limbs  into  vigour  and  beauty,  such 
as  might  fit  the  brave  loving  heart  and  quick 
intelligence  now  fettered  and  disguised  within. 

Once  she  spoke  of  this  hope  to  Laon.  The 
old  man  solemnly  forbade  her  ever  to  dare 
breathe  such  a  vain  hope  to  Diodora.  But 
his  own  opposition  grew  fainter  after  the  sug- 
gestion. 

To  Diodora  herself  no  such  hope  came  for 
an  instant.  She  had  been  too  long  used  to 
herself  and  to  suffering. 

But  by  the  waters  which  His  quiet  voice 
had  soothed  at  once  from  the  storm  to  the 
great  calm,  by  the  hill-sides  on  whose  grassy 
terraces  He  had  made  a  feast  for  many  thous- 
ands of  men,  women,  and  children,  fragments 
of  those  Divine  and  most  human  words  could 
not  fail  to  reach  a  heart  that  thirsted  for  them 
as  hers  did. 


358        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

And  of  all  she  heard,  one  miracle — that  of 
the  raising  of  the  young  daughter  of  Jairus — 
most  possessed  her.  It  was  not  so  much  that 
He  had  raised  that  young  damsel  from  death, 
as  that,  looking  on  her  dead,  He  had  said, 
"  She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth" 

Nothing  would  have  induced  her  to  leave 
the  shores  where  those  words  had  been 
spoken  by  the  voice  which  was  heard  through 
that  sleep,  but  the  promise  from  Laon  and 
Siguna  that,  when  once  they  had  reached 
Antioch,  they  should,  if  she  wished  it,  return 
once  more  to  Galilee,  where,  except  during 
the  Feast  at  Jerusalem,  His  dwelling-place 
was  said  chiefly  to  be. 

In  a  few  weeks  they  could  return.  Apart 
from  the  crowds  of  the  great  city,  on  those 
beaches  and  on  those  hill-sides  open  to  all 
alike,  shut  in  by  no  jealous  sacred  walls  of 
Temple  or  Temple  court,  there  might  be  a 
hope  of  a  poor  desolate  Gentile  woman  like 
herself  getting  near  enough  to  the  outskirts 
of  the  listening  crowd  to  catch  some  frag- 
ments of  those  words  which  seemed  so 
marvelously  to  disarm  those  who  hated,  and 
to  satisfy  the  inmost  hearts  of  those  who  loved. 

Three  sayings  lived  and  grew  in  her  heart. 

"  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  Me  and 
drink" 

" I am  the  Light  of  the  world" 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         359 

And,  dearer  to  her  than  all, — 

"  She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth! 

At  last  a  voice  which  spoke  with  certainty 
as  One  who  knew ;  with  authority,  as  One 
who  had  a  right  to  teach  and  to  command ! 

That  Voice  she  had  set  her  heart  to  hear, 
or  die ;  or,  better  still,  she  thought,  to  hear 
and  die. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

HE  national  gatherings  of  the  Jews, 
when  the  nation  was  dispersed,  as 
it  had  been  since  the  conquests  of 

J  Alexander,  secured  a  rapid  circula- 


tion of  information  most  advantageous  to 
those  who  enjoyed  it,  in  days  when  posts  and 
letters  were  never  dreamed  of,  except  as  the 
peculiar  privileges  of  the  wealthy  or  of  those 
in  office. 

Anything  likely  to  affect  the  destinies  of 
the  people  vibrated  swiftly  from  the  centre  to 
the  remotest  point  on  the  circumference. 

The  Romans  knew  well  how,  crossing,  and 
using  the  great  lines  of  their  roads,  and  sub- 
tly intertwined  in  the  great  visible  system  of 
their  Empire  with  its  focus  at  Rome,  was 
ever  living  and  working  this  Jewish  commu- 
nity—  active,  restless,  pliant,  indestructible, 
with  its  focus  at  Jerusalem. 

To  it  Rome  was  merely  one  out  of  many 
centres  of  traffic  ;  the  Empire  but  an  incident 
(36o) 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED,         361 

in  the  history  of  the  Gentiles.  Jerusalem  was 
the  City  of  God,  the  centre  of  the  world. 
Thence,  according  to  the  Roman  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Jewish  national  Hope,  were  to 
come  the  "  mighty  ones  who  were  to  be  the 
Sovereigns  of  the  world." 

Yet  among  the  Jews  themselves,  as  we 
know,  the  differences  in  belief  were  very  wide. 
United  by  a  common  patriotism,  their  belief 
had  a  latitude  wider  than  could  be  claimed 
for  the  freest  community,  whose  bond  was 
entirely  spiritual,  and  not  ancestral. 

The  debated  questions  of  the  Synagogue 
were  the  immortality,  or  the  resurrection  of 
man,  future  retribution  in  any  form,  the  exist- 
ence of  any  spiritual  creatures  besides  man, 
the  authenticity  or  Divine  authority  of  three- 
fourths  of  the  Jewish  Scriptures  ;  questions 
which,  it  would  seem  to  us,  left  very  little 
common  ground  for  those  who  differed  about 
them,  and  very  little  religion  of  any  kind  for 
those  who  held  the  negative  side. 

And,  besides  these  differences  which  con- 
vulsed the  Jewish  communities  in  Palestine, 
there  were  the  deep,  though  less  obvious,  dis- 
similarities between  the    Hellenists   and  the 
Hebrews,  coloring  the  whole  view  of  life  pres- 
ent and  future,  of  the  Sacred  Books,  and  of 
the  Hope  of  the  Messiah. 
*  The  Alexandrian  and  the  Galilean  beliefs 
16 


3-62          VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED 

as  to  the  promised  Deliverer,  the  Deliverance 
He  was  to  effect,  the  Kingdom  He  was  to  es- 
tablish, were  probably  in  some  respects  furth- 
er apart  than  Plato  and  Moses. 

Yet  the  great  national  Bond  remained,  that 
great  national  Hope  which  turned  the  gaze 
of  the  people  on  the  future  and  not  only  on 
the  past. 

It  seems  unquestionable  that,  in  the  days 
of  Tiberius  Caesar,  the  whole  Jewish  nation, 
with  all  its  differences  of  culture,  of  interest, 
and  of  belief,  was  restlessly  surging  and  heav- 
ing to  and  fro  with  that  one  passionate  expec- 
tation of  a  Deliverer  close  at  hand,  such  as 
has  never  stirred  that  nation,  or  any  other  na- 
tion, before  or  since. 

*  -x-  %  •*  * 

When  Laon,  Siguna,  and  Clcelia  Diodora 
reached  Antioch,  they  found  the  little  group 
through  which  alone  they,  as  Gentiles,  had 
any  insight  into  the  Jewish  world,  already 
full  of  agination,  in  consequence  of  rumors 
that  had  reached  them  from  Palestine. 

Here,  also,  as  in  every  place  where  that 
Name  reached,  "  there  was  a  division  among 
the  people  concerning  Him." 

Onias  and  Esther  had  heard,  two  or  three 
years  before,  of  one  like  an  ancient  prophet, 
living  separate  from  common  humanity,  like 
one  of  the  former  judges  or  seers — dwelling 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         363 

in  the  wilderness,  yet  gathering  throngs  from 
the  cities  ;  in  the  garb  of  the  great  mysteri- 
ous prophet  who  had  been  rapt  from  earth  in 
a  chariot  of  fire  ;  with  the  lightnings  of  his 
brief  burning  sermons  kindling  the  consci- 
ences of  the  wicked  and  profane  to  repent- 
ance and  reformation,  yet  reserving  his  sever- 
est denunciations  for  the  professedly  religious ; 
scourging  the  publicans  with  whips  and  the 
Pharisees  with  scorpions. 

Such  a  mighty  man,  Onias  thought,  might 
well  be  "  He  who  was  to  come." 

When  he  had  purified  to  himself  a  band  of 
followers  sufficiently  devoted,  he  might  raise 
the  standard  of  Israel  on  the  hills  beyond  Jor- 
dan, sweep  a  passage  through  the  river  like 
Elijah,  enter  the  land  like  Joshua,  while  the 
Romans,  like  the  Canaanites  of  old,  would 
flee  before  him,  or  remain  to  crouch  under 
his  yoke. 

For  to  Onias,  as  to  the  Roman  courtier  of 
Augustus,  the  ideal  of  universal  empire  was 
the  enthronement  of  his  own  people  as  van- 
quishers on  Olympus,  whilst  the  rest  of  the 
world  crouched  bound  below. 

"  O  Lord,  thou  madest  the  world  for  our 
sakes,"  said  the  Book  of  Esdras.  "  As  for  the 
other  people  which  also  come  of  Adam,  thou 
hast  said  that  they  are  nothing,  but  be  like 
unto  spittle." 


364        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

But  soon  came  the  bewildering  tidings  that 
the  stern  denouncer  of  sin  absolutely  dis- 
claimed all  power  and  all  leadership  for  him- 
self ;  founded  no  school ;  attempted  no  gath- 
ering of  the  nation  ;  replied  to  the  authorities 
sent  from  Jerusalem  formally  to  investigate 
his  credentials,  by  a  series  of  disappointing 
negations  ;  declared  he  was  not  the  Messiah, 
not  Elijah,  not  the  Prophet — indeed,  well- 
nigh  disclaimed  all  personality.  Not  as  a 
Prophet,  a  Rabbi,  a  Leader,  not  as  a  man  at 
all  would  he  be  recognized  ;  merely  as  "  a 
Voice!"  "a  Voice  in  the  wilderness,"  smiting 
rocks,  opening  fountains  of  tears,  and  then 
dying  away  as  a  Voice  dies,  the  most  charac- 
teristic thing  about  a  man,  leaving  the  might- 
iest effects  of  any  human  thing  ;  but  of  itself 
leaving  nothing,  not  a  trace,  not  an  echo,  dy- 
ing absolutely,  never  to  be  recalled, — by  no 
subtle  chemistry,  by  no  passionate  yearning 
of  affection,  ever  to  be  re-awakened  from  the 
air  on  which  it  has  ceased  to  vibrate. 

A  Voice  heralding  the  King. 

And  then  at  intervals  came  rumors  of  Him 
so  heralded. 

Perplexing  rumors  again.  Perplexing  even 
(we  are  told)  to  the  Forerunner  himself  when, 
in  the  darkness  of  his  prison,  only  rumors 
reached  him  of  the  outer  world. 

If  "  Art  thou  He  who  should  come,  or  do 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         365 

we  look  for  Another  ?"  was  wrung  from  that 
faithful  heart,  what  must  have  been  the  per- 
plexity of  those  who  looked  for  a  kingdom 
that  was  to  come  with  much  "  observation," 
and  a  King  who  would  compel  Tiberius  Cse- 
sar  to  lick  the  dust  before  him, — who  might 
make  a  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem  with 
kings  holding  his  bridle  reins,  and  a  body- 
guard of  Jews  of  pure  Hebrew  blood,  whom 
he  might  "  make  princes  in  all  lands  ?" 

The  King's  herald  in  the  dungeons  of  He- 
rod Antipas,  and  the  King  taking  no  heed  ; 
the  loyal  herald  murdered  in  the  prison,  to 
gratify  the  vengeance  of  a  wicked  princess, 
and  still  the  Mightier  than  all,  whom  that 
faithful  Voice  had  so  loyally  proclaimed,  not 
even  threatening  vengeance  on  the  mur- 
derer! 

Content  to  declare  the  sufferer  "  the  great- 
est born  of  women."  Yet  steadfastly  pro- 
claiming that  the  kingdom  was  no  longer 
only  "  at  hand,"  but  already  among  them,  that 
the  least  "within  it"  were  greater  than  this 
greatest  who  had  prepared  it. 

Then  came  fragments  of  parables,  and  of 
sermons  ;  and  benedictions  on  the  poor,  the 
sorrowful,  the  patient,  the  persecuted,  the 
hungering  and  thirsty  of  this  world  ;  difficult 
elements  out  of  which  to  found  a  kingdom 
such  as  the  Pharisees  could  conceive  worthy 


366        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  the  descendants  of  those  who  had  fought 
under  the  Maccabees. 

To  Esther,  and  any  like  her,  gentle  and  be- 
reaved, stricken  with  that  sense  of  sin  which 
the  old  law  could  plough  so  terribly  deep, 
brought  up  in  the  hope  of  a  higher  Deliverer 
from  a  deeper  ruin,  those  words  brought  some 
glimpses  of  their  true  meaning.  But  they 
came  to  her  only  in  broken  strains,  from  out- 
side. And  of  the  inward  interpretation  to 
who  cared  for  them  enough  to  become  "  dis- 
ciples," nothing  had  yet  reached  Antioch. 

Gladly  would  Onias  have  persuaded  him- 
self that  the  whole  was  a  mere  delusion  of  the 
Galilean  peasantry. 

"  Could  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Naza- 
reth ?  " 

"  Had  any  of  the  rulers  believed  on  Him  ?  " 

"  Out  of  Galilee  ariseth  no  prophet." 

The  letter  of  the  Sacred  Books  then,  as  al- 
ways, could  be  forged  into  weapons  against 
the  spirit  by  those  from  whom  the  spirit  was 
gone. 

Esther  could  at  any  time  be  baffled  in  an 
argument,  by  texts  about  Bethlehem,  and  the 
princely  line  of  David  ;  yet,  irrefragable  as 
these  textual  arguments  might  seem,  Onias 
could  not  overcome  the  uneasiness  which  the 
repeated  reports  of  miracles  caused  him. 

Thousands  fed  in  the  wilderness,  the  sick 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         367 

of  whole  districts  healed,  even  (it  was  said) 
the  dead  raised  ;  it  might  be  perilous  alto- 
gether to  disregard  signs  like  these  ! 

Yet  these  very  miracles  irritated  him  as 
much  as  anything. 

If  such  power  was  possessed,  why  not  use 
it  to  some  practical  purpose  ? 

If  the  towers  of  Herod  Ahtipas's  Golden 
House  in  Tiberias  had  been  levelled  like  the 
walls  of  Jericho,  and  from  the  unroofed  dun- 
geons the  Baptist  had  been  set  free ;  if  the 
Roman  eagles  at  Caesarea  had  been  smitten 
with  lightning  ;  or,  better  still,  the  Roman 
legions  laid  low  like  Sennacherib's  army ;  if 
the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  had  been  illumined 
with  some  great  visible  glory,  or  the  sacrifices 
consumed  with  fire  from  heaven  ; — this  would, 
indeed,  have  been  something  to  compel  atten- 
tion ;  this  would  have  been  a  sign  from 
heaven.  But  these  quiet,  unostentatious  little 
acts  of  healing  and  feeding, — why  waste  such 
power  as  they  seemed  to  indicate  on  work  so 
unimpressive  ?  At  least,  if  multitudes  could 
be  thus  miraculously  fed, — instead  of  feeding 
a  few  thousand  hungry  Galilean  men  and  wo- 
men on  common  bread  and  fish,  why  not  have 
entertained  the  whole  nation  gathered  at  one 
of  the  national  festivals  at  Jerusalem — with 
something  like  the  fare  of  a  king's  table  ?  Or, 
at  the  very  least,  why  not  exonerate  the  fish- 


368        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

erraan,  His  followers,  from  the  necessity  of 
pursuing  their  humble  craft,  and  prepare 
them  for  being  chiefs  of  the  new  kingdom  by 
releasing  them  from  servile  toil  ? 

If,  indeed,  the  sick  could  be  healed,  let 
them,  at  all  events,  be  sick  people  of  distinc- 
tion. There  was  disease  in  palaces  as  well  as 
in  poor  men's  homes.  Let  some  great  city 
wailing  round  a  dead  prince,  like  Antioch 
around  the  funeral  pyre  of  Germanicus,  or 
Rome  around  the  urn  which  bore  his  ashes, 
be  startled  into  joy  and  rapturous  faith  by 
having  its  dead  given  back  to  it ;  not  merely 
some  poor,  desolate  Syrian  home  be  made 
glad  for  a  few  years  by  the  restoring  of  a  dead 
son  to  a  widowed  mother. 

But  concerning  this  Esther  was  altogether 
of  another  mind.  She  thought  this  pity  for 
the  poor  and  unnoticed  Divine  ; — Divine ! 
which  was  more  than  kingly  ;  yet  most  truly 
kingly,  because  Divine.  These  works  were 
like  the  Scriptures  of  their  people,  she  said  ; 
like  the  angel  appearing  to  show  the  well  to 
Hagar  the  slave;  like  the  widow's  cruse  at 
Sarepta,  which  was  always  only  a  cruse,  yet 
never  failed. 

To  give  splendidly  to  impress  the  people, 
she  said,  was  like  the  Herods,  or  any  tyrant. 
To  give  to  the  needy,  because  of  the  need, 
was  like  God. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         369 

She  longed  to  go,  to  look  and  listen. 

On  this  point,  however,  Onias  was  immov- 
able. "  The  hearts  of  women  were  too  easily 
touched.  There  was  evidently,  from  all  ac- 
counts, an  inexplicable  power  about  the  pres- 
ence of  this  Nazarene  not  rashly  to  be  encoun- 
tered." 

"  He — Onias — it  could  no  longer  be  con- 
cealed was  a  man  of  substance.  It  was,  there- 
fore, of  some  importance  to  any  cause  which 
side  he  took  with  regard  to  it.  Men  of  in- 
fluence must  act  with  caution.  So  much  sub- 
stance was  not  to  be  risked  with  levity." 

"  It  might  be  of  infinite  importance  to  them- 
selves which  side  they  took !"  Esther  would 
suggest  on  the  other  hand.  "  If  he  risked 
money  by  taking  one  side,  might  they  not  be 
risking  themselves  by  taking  none  ?" 

But  Onias  persisted  in  waiting  for  the  "  sign 
from  heaven."  When  such  a  sign  as  he  could 
not  question  came  from  such  a  visible  heaven 
as  he  recognized,  it  would  be  time  to  think  of 
launching  such  a  heavily-freighted  vessel  as 
his.  Till  then  he  would  keep  safe  in  the  harbor. 

It  was  into  debates  such  as  these  that  the 
tidings  came  which  Diodora  brought  from 
Jerusalem,  increasing  considerably  the  per- 
plexities of  Onias,  the  double-minded,  and  as 
greatly  relieving  those  of  Esther  the  single- 
hearted. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


N  the  Roman  maiden  the  Jewish 
mother  found,  at  last,  a  heart  strick- 
en out  of  this  world's  hopes,  like  her 
own,  thirsting  for  all  her  religion 
could  give ;  thirsting,  like  herself,  for  all  it 
promised  and  could  not  give. 

Little  Hilda  had  owed  all  to  Esther.  The 
deep  sense  of  sin  and  want  which  the  Jewish 
rites  and  records  could  awaken,  had  vibrated 
from  her  heart  to  the  child's.  But  the  vibra- 
tions, though  genuine,  were  faint ;  such  as 
one  string  awakens  in  another,  rather  than  as 
from  two  instruments  touched  by  the  same 
mighty  hand.  And  now  in  Hilda's  home,  full 
of  hope  and  affection,  and  of  the  prattle  of 
little  children,  with  the  heart  of  her  husband 
trusting  securely  in  her,  the  ideal  of  Hebrew 
family  life  seemed  fulfilled.  The  sense  of  sin 
weighed  lightly  where  the  hand  of  Him  who 
forgives  the  penitent,  but  does  not  clear  the 
guilty,  seemed  to  be  shown  in  such  manifest 
(370) 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         37! 

tokens  of  His  loving-kindness.  And  it  might 
be  borne  with,  that  the  next  life  should  seem 
a  little  dim,  when  so  wide  and  bright  a  space 
lay  between. 

With  Siguna,  Esther  well  knew,  that  stead- 
fast hope  which  never  died  in  her  heart  of 
meeting  Olave  once  more,  was  dearer  to  her 
than  even  to  Hilda  her  rich  fulfilments  of 
hope.  She  did  not  wish  to  think  of  a  life 
hereafter  while  she  believed  one  world,  one 
life,  still  held  her  husband  and  herself. 

To  Siward  also,  from  other  causes,  the 
world  looked  wide  and  solid  enough.  If 
Hilda  was  absorbed  in  its  brightness,  Siward 
was  equally  absorbed  by  its  wrongs.  To  the 
great  national  Jewish  Hope  of  a  Deliverer,  as 
Esther  interpreted  it,  he  was  always  willing 
to  listen.  The  rumors  from  Galilee  had 
awakened,  at  intervals,  a  keen  interest  in  his 
mind.  Those  promises  to  the  poor  and  the 
wronged,  those  miracles  of  Dealing,  seemed 
to  him  just  what  the  world  wanted.  Only  he 
watched  to  see  whether  the  benediction  and 
the  healing  would  extend  further  than  Gali- 
lee ;  further  than  the  Jewish  nation,  further 
than  the  Roman  Empire. 

What  he  longed  for  was  not  so  much  for- 
giveness of  sin,  as  redress  of  wrongs ;  not  so 
much  "  life  and  immortality  brought  to  light," 
as  life  made  worth  living  here  and  now. 


372         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

With  Clcelia  Diodora  it  was  different. 

To  her,  as  to  Esther,  the  life  beyond,  or 
rather  the  life  within,  had  become  the  reality, 
and  all  else  the  shadow ;  too  exclusively,  no 
doubt,  a  reality  apart  from  all  else,  instead  of 
inspiring  it. 

What  her  Beloved  had  lost,  she  passionately 
chose  to  contemn  as  no  loss.  She  would  not 
believe  that  what  was  lavished  recklessly  on 
the  common  crowds  of  men,  or  on  brutes  and 
insects — nay,  even  on  men  worse  than  brutes 
— and  had  been  torn  from  that  pure  and  beau- 
tiful being,  was  worth  anything.  This  world 
was  a  shadow,  a  chaos ;  this  flesh  a  prison,  a 
tomb.  At  least  so  she  said  to  herself.  The 
terrible  uncertainty  was  whether,  worthless 
as  it  was,  it  might  not  yet  be  all. 

For  one  clear,  certain  word  from  that  un- 
known shore,  she  would  have  dared,  she  had 
dared,  all  the  terrors  and  pains  of  the  world 
visible  and  invisible. 

For  this  she  searched  the  Jewish  Scrip- 
tures ;  not  calmly  investigating  them  as  a 
magazine  of  countless  treasures,  but  passion- 
ately ransacking  them  as  only  one  other  heap 
of  crumbling  dust  for  her  unless  she  could 
find  this  one  lost  jewel ;  but  if  she  found  that, 
the  casket  of  the  pearl  which  was  worth  the 
world. 

"  To  teach  Greek  to  your  sons,"  said  some 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         373 

of  the  severer  Oriental  rabbis,  "  was  as  pro- 
fane as  to  keep  swine.  The  Law  should  be 
studied  day  and  night.  Greek  should  be 
studied  at  that  hour  when  it  is  neither  day 
nor  night.  Greek,"  they  added,  "  was  only 
fit  for  women  ;"  a  mere  effeminate  decoration, 
like  the  crisp  ing-pins,  the  glasses,  and  the 
spangled  ornaments. 

Nevertheless  half  the  nation  probably  spoke 
Greek  more  familiarly  than  Hebrew,  and 
quoted  their  own  Scriptures  in  the  Alexan- 
drian translation.  It  happened  that  in  the 
house  of  Onias,  among  the  treasures  left  in 
pledge,  were  copies  of  the  greater  portion  of 
the  Septuagint. 

To  Cloelia  Diodora,  of  the  three  prevailing 
languages  of  the  empire,  Greek,  through 
Laon,  was  as  familiar  as  Latin ;  whilst  to 
Esther  it  was,  from  childhood,  as  well-known 
as  Hebrew  or  any  of  the  Eastern  dialects,  her 
mother  having  been  of  an  Alexandrian  Hel- 
lenistic family. 

Laon  had  solemnly  promised  Clcelia  that, 
if  her  desire  continued,  some  one  should  take 
her  back  through  Galilee  to  Jerusalem  early 
that  spring,  to  hear,  if  possible,  that  Voice  for 
herself.  Meantime  she  spent  all  the  time  that 
could  be  spared  with  Esther.  Together  they 
searched  those  sacred  books  which  have  been 
seed  to  the  sower  and  bread  to  the  eater  of 


374        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

countless  generations, — Esther,  with  the  de- 
vout reverence  of  early  faith  quickened  by  a 
new  hope ;  Diodora,  with  the  passionate  hun- 
ger whose  only  plea  is  starvation — but  both 
for  bread. 

Lovely  touching  stories  of  human  homes — 
poetical  delight  in  the  beauty  and  sublimity 
of  this  visible  creation — what  were  these  then 
to  the  Roman  maiden  ?  The  story  of  her  life 
had  closed,  with  its  one  great  love  ;  the  beauty 
of  this  visible  world,  now  that  the  beautiful 
eyes  she  loved  had  closed  on  it,  jarred  on  her 
like  an  instrument  that  can  only  play  one  tune 
when  the  words  have  changed  from  a  triumph 
to  a  wail. 

Yet,  unconsciously,  the  beauty  of  the  stories 
and  the  lofty  poetry  of  prophecy  and  psalm 
did  her  good  ;  unconsciously,  as  fresh  air  and 
beautiful  nature  do  us  good.  They  set  her 
heart  in  the  open  air.  It  was  something  for 
her  that  that  passionate  search  should  be  car- 
ried on,  as  it  were,  by  daylight  on  the  moun- 
tain-side, instead  of  in  the  dimness  of  some 
chill  oracular  cavern. 

"  Tell  me  where  my  sister  is  ?  Is  she  living  ? 
If  she  is  living,  how?  where?" 

And  here  and  there  hints  of  an  answer  came, 
faint  and  far  between,  indeed,  and  broken  by 
long  wails,  yet  still  clearer  than  anything  she 
had  heard  before.  Less  like  an  echo  of  her 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         375 

own  voice.  More  like  an  answer  from  another 
Voice,  though  distant  as  "  beyond  the  limits 
of  the  world,"  dimly  heard  as  by  ears  wearied 
with  long  straining  to  listen,  and  dimly  under- 
stood, as  in  some  strange  language,  half-for- 
gotten or  half-learnt,  and  broken  by  ceaseless 
echoes  of  the  old  wail  from  below.  Yet, 
through  all  the  dimness  and  confusion  of 
voices,  more  like  an  answer  from  another 
Voice. 

"Going  down,"  the  "darkness,"  the  "si- 
lence, the  pit,  the  chasm,"  whose  steep  sides 
none  could  climb  up  to  the  light,  "  forgotten 
as  the  dead  ;"  "  life,  a  dream,"  the  same  "  tale  " 
begun  and  ended  to  generation  after  genera- 
tion ;  and  death,  a  "  withering,  a  being  over- 
whelmed beneath  irresistible  waves,  a  being 
consumed  to  ashes,  a  being  crumbled  to  dust, 
a  cessation  of  work  and  hope,  of  speech  to 
one  another,  and  of  praise  ,to  God."  Again 
the  hopeless  old  cry  of  the  senses,  bitter  as  in 
any  of  the  old  utterances. 

Yet  ever  and  anon,  through  the  long  wail, 
came  faint  echoing  murmurs  of  that  mighty 
far-off  music.  They  reached  her  not  as  some- 
thing painfully  wrought  out  from  the  depths 
within,  but  as  something  quietly  listened  to 
from  above. 

"  Thy  dead  shall  rise." 

And  in  the  later  prophets, — 


376        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  They  that  sleep  in  the  dust  shall  wake." 

And  in  the  earlier  words,  which  seemed  to 
her  to  reach  further  than  any, — 

"As  for  me,  I  will  behold  Thy  face  in 
righteousness."  "  I  shall  be  satisfied,  when  I 
awake,  with  thy  likeness." 

"  Waking,"  being  "satisfied"  with  the  sight 
of  the  face  of  God,  being  satisfied  by  being 
made  like  Him.  If  this  was  what  lay  beyond 
this  brief  and  broken  years,  this  was  indeed 
an  immortality  worth  waiting  for. 

She  sat  one  day  pressing  her  fingers  on  the 
precious  words :  the  roll  of  manuscript  lay 
stretched  across  her  knees  in  that  little  room 
in  Esther's  house  where  the  two  women  spent 
so  many  hours  together.  It  opened  on  a  small 
inner  court.  The  Syrian  sun  flickered  through 
pomegranates  and  trellised  vine-leaves,  on  the 
floor  of  the  alcove  where  their  cushions  were 
spread.  A  runlet  of  cool  water  was  trickling 
into  a  little  marble  basin,  and  out  of  it  through 
a  stone  channel. 

Still  pressing  her  fingers  on  those  words,  as 
if  on  the  casket  of  a  jewel,  Diodora  looked 
up.  Above  the  low  roof  of  the  house  rose 
the  purple  outline  of  distant  hills.  In  the 
light  of  those  words  she  seemed  herself  to 
awaken  as  if  from  a  long,  terrible  dream,  and 
to  see  and  hear  the  outside  world  once  more. 

"Esther,    Esther!"    she   said.      "Are   they 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         377 

awake  now  f — satisfied  now  ? — seeing  that  face 
now?  If  they  are,  I  am  satisfied.  To  them 
death  is  no  wrong.  The  pain  and  loss  are 
only  mine.  And  that  I  can  bear." 

Esther's  eyes  sank  before  the  earnest  ques- 
tion in  Diodora's. 

"  I  know  that  they  shall  rise  again,  in  the 
resurrection,  at  the  last  day,"  she  said,  in  a 
tremulous  voice. 

"  But  now ? — now ?"  was  the  passionate  re- 
ply. "  If  they  are  robbed  of  anything  like 
life  for  anything  like  sleep,  every  hour  that 
they  are  asleep,  silent,  lost  in  the  night, — 
every  hour  that  she  is  asleep,  my  beautiful, 
and  good,  and  tender,  and  true,  the  delight  oi 
every  eye  that  saw  her,  whilst  I — / — am 
awake,  is  a  robbery  and  a  wrong  to  her ;  and 
it  is  this  I  cannot  bear." 

Esther  bowed  her  head,  and  tenderly  sought 
to  silence  the  words  of  revolt,  so  terrible  to 
her,  by  pressing  the  lips  that  uttered  them  to 
her  own. 

"  Child !  child !  to  awake  even  at  last,  to 
wake  once  and  for  ever  thus,  is  not  that  some- 
thing? You  forget  God!"  she  added,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  That  world,  all  worlds ;  their 
life,  our  life  ;  they — we — are  His.  The  terri- 
ble thing  is  not  death — not  even  death  !"  she 
said  firmly,  in  spite  of  the  shudder  that  quiv- 
ered through  the  frame  of  Diodora;  "but 


378        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

sin.  The  glorious  thing  is  not  so  much  living 
again — living  on  ,  but  living  with  God,  being 
good  like  Him ;  not  waking  only,  but  waking 
in  His  likeness — to  see  His  face." 

Clcelia  Diodora  made  no  reply.  The  words 
sank  deep. 

"  It  is  not  death  that  can  hide  His  face 
from  us,  but  sin,"  Esther  resumed,  after  a 
long  pause.  "  Of  this  I  am  sure.  And  to 
sleep,  even  to  sleep  for  ages,  with  His  face 
shining  on  our  sleep,  as  a  mother's  on  a  sleep- 
ing babe,  would  be  something." 

Closlia  started  suddenly,  as  if  she  had  heard 
a  voice. 

"  The  maid  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth"  she  mur- 
mured. "  Oh,  Esther,  I  have  been  dreaming. 
The  Voice  that  said  that,  and  woke  the  dead, 
is  still  to  be  heard  by  the  Galilean  lake.  Why 
are  we  poring  over  old  books?  There  is  a 
Voice  to  be  heard  !  a  living  Voice,  such  as 
these  old  words  were  spoken  by  once ;  and 
yet,  if  all  is  true,  not  such — not  such  as  was 
ever  heard  on  earth  before." 

"  Go,"  Esther  said  ;  "  and  would  to  Heaven 
I  might  be  suffered  to  go  with  thee  !" 

But  still  Laon  interposed  delay.  The  very 
mention  of  the  wish  seemed  not  now  to  irri- 
tate, but  to  pain  him. 

"  Child,"  he  said  at  last,  one  evening,  "  I 
have  promised.  If  nothing  can  turn  thee  from 


TIC  TORT  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         379 

this  superstitious  longing,  thou  shalt  go.  But 
I  will  never  go  myself  with  thee.  I  had  well 
nigh  as  soon  carry  thee  to  the  Amphitheatre 
to  be  devoured  of  the  wild  beasts.  Siguna 
may  go  with  thee,  and  Siward.  Since  my 
voice  has  lost  all  power  for  thee,  what  service 
could  I  render  by  accompanying  thee  ?  " 

"  Come,  Laon,  dearer,  better  to  me  always 
than  all  but  one ! "  she  said,  laying  his  hand 
on  her  head,  as  she  sat  at  his  feet.  "  Hast 
thou  no  yearning  for  more  certain  words? 
Come  thou  thyselfrand  hear  and  see." 

"  I  am  content  to  live  as  I  have  lived,"  he 
said ;  "  to  die  as  Socrates  died,  if  I  may.  I 
am  too  old  to  hunt  the  world  for  new  voices." 

"Would  thy  Socrates  have  been  content?" 
she  ventured  to  ask.  "Would  he  not  have 
gladly  left  the  cavern  and  the  shadows  of  the 
outside  fire,  for  the  sunlight  and  the  reali- 
ties?" she  added,  quoting  a  part  of  the  Re- 
public they  had  often  read  together.  "  O 
Laon,"  she  concluded,  with  an  appealing  clasp 
of  her  hands,  "  if  they  are  only  words  like 
any  other  words,  how  can  they  harm  thee? 
Wilt  thou  not  know  them,  and  guard  me,  thy 
child  ?  Come  and  see.  Come  and  take  care 
of  me." 

He  seemed  touched,  and  a  little  comforted. 

"  My  poor  old  arm  and  my  thin  old  voice 
could  do  little  for  thee,"  he  said.  "  Siguna 


380        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

shall  cherish  thee ;  and  Siward  has  a  stout 
arm  to  defend  thee.  I  will  stay  at  home,  and 
work  for  you  all.  And  if,"  he  added,  after  a 
pause,  "  there  could  be  anything  in  the  words 
you  seek  to  hear,  they  will  not  come  weak- 
ened to  me,  child,  through  thy  voice." 

So  at  last  Laon  suffered  the  preparations  for 
the  journey  to  Galilee  to  begin ;  and  the  day 
of  departure  was  fixed — a  fortnight  thence. 

Slowly  the  final  days  of  expectation  passed 
for  Diodora.  The  nearer  the  fulfilment  of  her 
longing  drew,  the  more  she  felt  what  it  might 
be  to  her.  All  the  more  because  those  words 
of  Esther  had  ploughed  a  deep  furrow  in  her 
heart :  "  It  is  not  the  death  that  hides  God's 
face  from  us,  but  sin."  Again  and^again  she 
searched  those  Sacred  Books ;  not  now  only 
to  find  out  what  they  said  of  immortality,  but 
what  they  meant  by  God  and  by  sin.  And 
with  this  new  object  in  her  search,  she  felt 
like  some  one  who  has  suddenly  found  the 
magic  word,  the  master-key,  which  opens 
door  after  door  in  some  vast  palace,  and  cas- 
ket after  casket  in  some  inexhaustible  treasury. 
To  these  words  every  barrier  of  those  Sacred 
Books  sprang  open  ;  God,  and  sin. 

This  master-key  which  opened  the  Scrip- 
tures, opened  also  one  chamber  after  another 
in  the  world  and  in  her  own  life.  At  last  the 
struggles  in  her  heart  were  named  by  such 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         381 

names  as  could  only  be  given  by  One  who  un- 
derstood :  "  It  is  not  death  that  hides  His  face 
from  us,  but  sin." 

She  recalled  the  bitter  dread  which  she  had 
felt  even  in  the  solitude  of  the  Pomasrium — 
that  even  that  abyss  into  which  she  had  sunk 
might  be  but  the  brink  of  a  deeper  possible 
abyss :  the  dread  of  growing  wicked,  cruel, 
malignant,  like  a  cruel  phantom  of  the  night, 
in  this  endless,  hopeless  night. 

She  remembered  how,  after  seeing  the  sor- 
ceress, the  feeling  had  possessed  her  that  there 
might  be  something  which  could  separate  her 
from  her  Beloved  further  even  than  death  ; 
how  she  had  felt  that  nothing  which  made  her 
unlike  that  pure  and  loving  being  could  bring 
them  nearer ;  and  she  remembered,  too,  how, 
in  that  choice  rather  not  to  know  than  to  do 
evil,  the  first  feeling  of  rest  had  come  on  her 
since  her  sorrow. 

And  now,  in  the  light  of  those  wonderful 
old  Books,  these  dim  yearnings  and  struggles 
took  shape  and  meaning.  What  was  mystical 
in  them,  what  was  literal — what  was  the  up- 
ward panting  of  the  Divine  breath  in  man, 
made  in  the  Divine  Image — what  the  fresh  in- 
breathing of  the  Divine  Spirit  into  some  one 
illuminated  man — did  not  perplex  her.  Every- 
where throughout  those  marvellous  pages  she 
felt  the  throb  of  her  own  heart,  its  aching  and 


382          VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

its  panting  thirst ;  everywhere  she  felt  the 
warmth  of  Another  Heart,  strong  and  free, 
able  to  pity,  able  to  satisfy. 

The  world  created, — not  organized  out  of 
some  eternal  substance,  probably  evil,  yet  in- 
destructible, but  created, — then  brooded  over, 
shaped,  delighted  in.  Created  good  :  not 
heaven  only,  and  its  pure  fires ;  but  earth, 
with  its  living  creatures.  Once  good  alto- 
gether, and  delighted  in. 

Man,  again,  created — not  in  the  image  of 
any  living  creature,  but  of  the  Creator ; 
created,  not  growing  out  of  Nature  ;  created, 
yet  formed  of  dust — linked  to  the  Divine,  and 
yet  to  this  lowliest  dust  of  the  world.  Man 
and  woman  created,  to  help,  and  love,  and 
complete  each  other ;  not  to  rival  or  to  t}^ran- 
nize  over  each  other. 

Man  created  able  to  speak  to  God  ;  God 
speaking  to  man. 

Then  the  discord. 

Man  choosing  to  be  as  gods,  instead  of  to 
be  like  God,  and  with  God ;  and  losing  God 
and  the  likeness  to  Him  together;  choosing 
to  be  the  centre  of  the  universe,  and  by  that 
choice  becoming  a  mere  atom  in  the  midst  of 
a  chaos ;  falling  and  dying  inwardly  with  the 
loss  of  God.  Love  changing  into  selfish  pas- 
sion ;  aspiration  into  ambition. 

Still,  God  seeking,  speaking ;  pronouncing 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         383 

the  sentence,  yet  promising,  recalling ;  clos- 
ing the  spoiled  Paradise,  yet  opening  a  Tab- 
ernacle in  the  wilderness,  a  Temple  and  Holy 
Place  among  the  thorns  and  thistles.  The 
chasm  between  the  sinful  creature  and  the 
Holy  One  recognized,  guarded ;  hollowed 
deeper  and  deeper  through  the  centuries,  by 
man's  sin,  by  deeper  re vealings  of  the  Divine 
holiness ;  yet  always,  on  the  other  side  of  that 
chasm,  infinite  pity. 

A  sacrifice  required  of  man :  sacrifice  per- 
petual, sacrifice  of  the  very  costliest  and 
dearest ;  yet  awful  irony  cast  on  whole  heca- 
tombs of  heartless  offerings.  Only  the  heart 
— only  justice,  mercy,  and  walking  humbly 
with  God  —  demanded.  Only  the  heart ; 
which  is,  absolutely  the  whole  man. 

Conscience  after  conscience  smitten  with 
agony  of  repentance,  heart  after  heart  touched 
with  longing  affection ;  yet  through  all  the 
agonies  a  dim  trust  in  Divine  forgiveness — 
through  all  the  adoring  love,  dim,  half-dumb 
meanings  of  distance  and  separation. 

And  through  all  the  darkness,  distance, 
separation,  always  the  music  of  a  far-off  hope, 
growing  ever  nearer  and  clearer :  the  hope  of 
a  Conquerer  to  be  born  of  that  poor,  fallen 
Eve — of  a  Son  of  Abraham,  in  whom  the 
world  was  to  be  blessed — of  a  King,  a  Shep- 
herd, a  Priest,  a  Deliverer.  A  Deliverer  from 


384        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

wrong,  from  oppression,  from  sin,  from  this 
chasm  which  rent  the  world  from  God :  the 
Sent  of  God — the  Son  of  man. 

So  the  two  women — the  Roman  and  the 
Jewess — searched,  and  listened,  and  longed, 
and  wondered,  and  learned.  And  all  their 
listening  and  learning  were  living  with  the 
breath  of  prayer  and  the  pulse  of  new  hope — 
the  hope  of  hearing  that  Voice  in  Galilee.  For 
dimly  Diodora  began  to  feel  that  whatever 
could  bridge  that  chasm  between  man  and 
God — whatever  could  resolve  the  discord  of 
sin — might  bridge  all  chasms  and  all  separa- 
tions, and  bring  all  discords  to  music.  In 
finding  one  who  could  forgive  and  cleanse  her 
sin,  she  would  find  One  who  could  conquer 
death.  Since  not  death  separates  us  from 
God,  but  sin,  not  death,  she  began  to  feel,  but 
only  sin,  can  really  separate  us  from  our  be- 
loved. The  long  furrow  which  through  the 
centuries  the  history  of  the  Jewish  race  had 
been  ploughing  for  the  seed  of  the  Sower, 
the  Son  of  man,  was  being  traced  in  her 
heart. 

So  that  fortnight  passed  in  the  early  spring 
at  Antioch,  until  the  day  came  when  the  Ger- 
man mother  and  son  and  the  Roman  maiden 
were  to  return  to  Galilee. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

HE  spring-time  had  come  to  those 
wooded  hills  of  Antioch,  green  all 
the  year  round  with  the  glossy 
leaves  of  ilex,  bay,  and  myrtle, 
bringing  even  to  the  well-watered  Paradises 
of  Epidaphne  a  new  freshness  on  tree  and 
grass,  and  among  the  grasses  a  glorious 
wealth  of  color  in  the  countless  tints  of  count- 
less flowers. 

Every  tree  must  flower  in  its  own  climate  ; 
and  at  Antioch  everything  seemed  to  be  in 
its  own  climate.  Every  fragrant  thicket  be- 
came a  home  of  birds.  Everywhere  fell  soft 
cooings  of  doves,  or  bubbled  up  joyous  foun- 
tains of  song ;  all  the  hill-sides  broke  into  a 
flood  of  blossom  and  of  music ;  and  every- 
where among  that  forest  of  blossom  prattled 
and  played  the  children,  and  the  little  brooks 
— the  children  of  the  mountains. 

Every  day  Hilda's  fair  children  found  some 
new  treasure  poured  out  for  them  on  the  lap 
17  (385) 


386        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

of  the  beautiful  new  world.  The  earth  seem- 
ed to  the  children  kind  and  smiling,  like  their 
own  fair  young  mother ;  and  they  nestled 
among  the  flowers,  and  hid  among  the  thick- 
ets, and  folded  themselves  in  all  the  joy  and 
beauty,  as  in  their  mother's  robe. 

And  as  Callias,  the  young  sculptor,  watched 
and  guarded  them,  a  whole  spring-tide  of  de- 
light and  beauty  seemed  to  blossom  also  with- 
in him  ;  and  an  immortality  of  youth  seemed 
necessary,  if  only  to  shape  into  perfection  the 
germs  of  that  world  of  lovely  visions ;  nay, 
more,  an  immortality  seemed  promised,  seem- 
ed actually  infolded  in  such  an  undeveloped 
inner  wealth  of  art,  as-the  creation  is  infolded 
in  the  chaos. 

To  old  Laon  also  the  spring  brought  its 
gladness.  A  pulse  of  life  seemed  to  throb 
even  through  the  glorious  old  world  in  which 
he  lived.  The  heroes  and  wise  men  of  old 
seemed  no  more  merely  the  forerunners,  but 
the  fathers  of  the  world.  The  present  seemed 
once  more  not  the  old  age  of  the  past,  but  its 
child.  And  in  this  fresh  green  world,  among 
these  forests  and  rivers,  vigorous  and  beauti- 
ful as  any  Homer  or  Plato  had  ever  seen,  it 
seemed  not  so  impossible  that  voices  as  true 
and  sweet  might  yet  be  heard,  that  lives  as 
high  and  true  and  joyous  as  those  of  old  might 
yet  be  lived. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         387 

Only  to  Onias  the  spring  brought  nothing 
new.  He  indeed  dwelt  in  the  under-world, 
the  caverns  of  the  gnomes  and  metal-workers, 
roofed  in  from  the  sunlight  by  domes  of  silver 
and  gold,  and  lighted  only  by  the  smelting 
furnaces  where  the  precious  ores  are  fused. 
No  breath  of  spring  penetrated  there.  The 
very  purpose  of  the  dwellers  was  to  secure 
those  dwellings  from  change  ;  to  roof  in  their 
world  from  God,  from  His  storms,  His  rust- 
ing rains  and  winds,  from  the  perilous  trans- 
mutations of  His  light ;  unconscious  that  they 
could  only  secure  their  world  from  change  by 
sealing  it  against  life. 

Into  this  under-world,  with  its  heaps  of 
treasure  and  its  vain  bolts  of  carefulness,  no 
living  breath  reached  from  the  earth  outside, 
or  from  the  spring-tide  of  the  Better  Hope. 
Blossoms  had  no  appreciable  value  there  un- 
less they  could  be  crushed  and  distilled  into 
changeless  oils  of  perfume  ;  nor  fruits  until 
they  were  dried  and  preserved  beyond  pos- 
sibility of  decay,  or  of  reproduction. 

Spiritual  truth,  likewise,  could  only  be  ad- 
mitted there  with  the  perilous  life  crushed 
out  of  it,  dried  into  the  immutable  letter,  war- 
ranted to  keep  for  centuries  without  diminu- 
tion or  growth  (if  sealed  from  the  air  and 
light). 

But  to  Esther  and  Clcelia  Diodora,  and  in 


388        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

a  measure  to  Siward,  that  spring  brought 
anew  a  hope  to  which  all  the  wealth  of  new 
life  flooding  the  hills  and  plains  around  Anti- 
och  seemed  but  as  a  little  sea-side  pool  left 
high  among  the  rocks,  witnessing  that  beyond 
is  the  Great  Sea  of  life,  promising  that  at  the 
next  tide  the  Great  Sea  will  be  sweeping, 
surging,  boundless,  fathomless  there. 

In  Siward's  heart,  moreover,  there  was  an 
especial  high-tide  of  joy  that  year.  For  the 
first  spring  since  he  was  a  boy,  he  was  free. 

The  petty  fretting  of  the  daily  bondage  was 
off  him ;  and  before  him  and  his  frowned  no 
longer  the  terrible  possibilities  involved  in 
Roman  slavery. 

The  chain  was  around  him  and  his  no  more, 
and  before  him  rose  no  more  the  shame  and 
the  slow  anguish  of  the  Cross. 

So,  exchanging  few  words,  but  full  of  many 
hopes,  the  German  mother  and  son,  and  the 
Roman  patrician  maiden,  went  their  way 
southward  from  Antioch  towards  Galilee. 

Everywhere,  the  vineyards  on  the  terraced 
slopes,  the  corn-fields  in  the  valleys  and  plains, 
the  forests  on  the  heights,  were  green  with 
the  new  life  of  spring.  In  the  fragrant  forest 
glades  of  Galilee  the  hoofs  of  the  asses  which 
the  women  rode  swept  through  thick  beds  of 
flowers,  scarlet  and  purple  and  golden. 

And  as  they  approached  the  shores  of  Tibe- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         389 

rias,  in  every  village  street,  and  among  every 
band  of  laborers  among  which  they  passed, 
the  pulse  of  the  new  Hope  for  the  world  was 
throbbing.  Multitudes  were  looking  for  a 
Deliverer  from  the  yoke  of  Rome ;  perhaps 
were  wondering  when  He  who  could  feed  the 
thousands,  and  break  the  chain  of  the  demo- 
niac, and  calm  the  raging  of  the  sea,  would  at 
last  suffer  Himself  to  be  proclaimed  King. 
In  every  village  were  some  who  had  felt  the 
touch  of  those  healing  hands,  or  heard  the 
tones  of  that  liberating  voice,  freeing  their 
beloved  from  hopeless  disease,  and  themselves 
from  sorrow  worse  than  death. 

On  every  hill-side  the  tones  of  that  Voice 
had  sounded  ;  and  fragments  of  the  life-giving 
words  must  have  been  floating  in  every  home. 

To  Siward  the  Hope  was  for  the  world. 
He  looked  for  One  to  redress  wrongs.  With 
Siguna  the  thought  that  lightened  many  a 
weary  mile  was,  that  she  might  possibly  see 
those  mighty  hands  laid  gently  on  the  bowed 
and  crippled  form  beside  her,  and  have  the 
joy  of  beholding  the  Roman  maiden,  no  more 
disguised  in  misshapen  flesh,  rise  strong  and 
free,  and  seem  the  good  and  brave  and  beau- 
tiful being  Siguna  felt  she  was. 

To  Clcelia  Diodora  no  hope  of  bodily  deliv- 
erance had  ever  come.  As  her  sister  had 
loved  her,  she  was  content  to  be.  In  this 


390        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

world  or  the  next  no  ideal  of  life  had  ever 
crossed  her  mind,  save  to  creep,  adoring  and 
satisfied,  close  beside  her  Beloved,  her  Beau- 
tiful, unnoticed  and  unknown,  serving  her, 
while  she  served  the  world. 

And  now  one  hope  alone  inspired  her, — the 
hope  of  finding  some  tidings  of  her  dead  from 
One  who  knew,  merging  into  that  deeper 
hope  of  being  delivered  from  that  which  is 
the  death  in  death — the  separation  not  of  body 
only,  but  of  spirit — that  terrible  inward  death 
of  sin  ;  the  hope,  dim  indeed  and  fluctuating, 
but  real,  not  only  of  a  Conqueror  of  Death, 
but  of  a  Redeemer  from  sin. 

To  each  of  them,  as  they  pressed  southward 
along  the  shingly  beaches  of  the  lake,  by  its 
fishing  villages,  its  rocky  way-sides,  its  grassy 
slopes,  its  springing  corn-fields,  came  broken 
fragments  of  speech,  flying  reports  of  acts, 
such  as  fed  the  separate  hope  of  each. 

To  Siward  came  rumors  of  the  King,  who 
never  denied  that  He  was  the  King,  yet  would 
not  suffer  Himself  to  be  proclaimed ;  wonder- 
ing surmises  whether  even  now  in  Jerusalem 
He  who  had  broken  the  yoke  of  the  demoniac 
and  stilled  the  raging  of  the  storm,  might  not. 
at  the  Feast,  at  last  be  suffering  Himself  to  be 
recognized  for  what  He  was — to  be  hailed 
with  bowed  knee,  crowned  and  sceptred  King 
of  the  Jews,  sitting  above  the  water-floods  of 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         391 

the  nations,  a  King  for  ever;  burning  frag- 
ments of  the  denunciations  which  had  scorch- 
ed the  disguises  from  the  avaricious  and  the 
hypocrite,  of  the  blessings  on  the  poor,  and 
the  proclamations  of  liberty  to  the  captive. 

To  the  German  mother  came  tender  histo- 
ries of  little  children  folded  to  the  heart  of  the 
Son  of  man,  blessed  by  the  touch  of  His  hands 
and  the  words  from  His  lips ;  of  fainting  mul- 
titudes fed,  of  blind  eyes  opened,  and  deaf 
ears  unstopped  ;  of  palsied  and  crippled  limbs 
made  strong  and  free. 

To  the  mourner  came  faint  echoes  of  a  bit- 
terer bondage  broken,  of  a  deeper  hunger  sat- 
isfied, and  more  incurable  diseases  healed  ;  of 
mightier  words,  and  more  glorious  wonders, 
and  fuller  benedictions;  of  the  dead  raised, 
and,  greater  marvel  still,  the  broken-hearted 
healed. 

And  so,  with  hearts  throbbing  with  ever 
stronger  pulsations  of  that  great  Hope,  they 
pressed  up  the  hills  from  the  fertile  hollows 
of  the  lake  of  Galilee,  on  and  on  towards  the 
city  where  that  Voice  was  said  to  be  teaching 
and  those  Hands  were  believed  to  be  healing 
still ;  towards  Jerusalem,  if  haply  they  might 
catch  some  faint  tones  of  the  mighty  words, 
or  but  touch  the  hem  of  the  garment,  or  gather 
up  some  scattered  crumbs  of  the  benedictions, 
or  even  catch  the  gleam  of  the  lightnings  of 


392         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

the  eyes  which  saw  through  all  disguises  to 
the  sin,  yet  pierced  to  the  sin  only  to  consume 
it,  and  save  the  sinner ;  if  haply,  at  last,  His 
hour  being  come,  they  might  even  echo  back 
the  Hosannas  in  which  His  people  proclaimed 
Him  King,  content  for  ever  to  be  hewers  of 
wood  and  drawers  of  water  in  the  kingdom 
of  Him  who  came  to  undo  the  heavy  burdens 
and  let  the  oppressed  go  free. 

Until,  at  last,  on  one  quiet  hill-side,  the  last 
before  they  would  have  reached  Olivet,  they 
met  a  little  downcast  company  of  Galileans, 
and  heard  that  He  who  they  trusted  should 
have  redeemed  Israel — who  had  fed  the  thou- 
sands, stilled  the  storm,  raised  the  dead — had 
at  length  been  seized  by  the  Sanhedrim,  con- 
demned by  the  Romans,  nailed  to  the  shame- 
ful Cross  between  two  notorious  criminals, 
and  there,  after  six  hours  of  torture,  had  died. 
Unresisting,  uncomplaining,  and  unavenged, 
He  had  died,  and  had  been  buried. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

LOWLY  the  three  retraced  their 
steps  to  Antioch.  The  beauty  of 
the  spring  was  still  in  all  its  fresh- 
ness on  the  green  hills  and  corn- 
fields, the  orchards,  and  fragrant  gardens  of 
those  smiling  Galilean  shores,  which  seemed 
to  those  who  looked  on  them  then  as  "  the 
Paradise  of  God." 

The  little  waves  of  the  lake  rippled  with  a 
low  cool  music  on  the  sandy  beach,  or  among 
the  roots  of  the  oleanders.  The  sails  of  the 
fishing-boats  speckled  the  blue  waters;  the 
little  fleets  returned  each  to  its  own  rocky 
promontory  or  mimic  harbor,  to  be  welcomed, 
with  their  haul  of  fish,  in  town  or  village,  by 
mothers  and  children.  Along  the  plain  of 
Gennesaret'  the  sower  went  forth  to  sow,  fol- 
lowed along  the  stony  way-side  by  the  hungry 
flocks  of  birds ;  far  up  on  the  slopes  of  the 
higher  hills  the  shepherds  might  be  seen  lead- 
ing their  mingled  flocks  —  the  white  sheep 
17*  (393) 


394         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

clustered  near,  them,  the  nimble  black  goats 
scattered  hither  and  thither  among  the  steep 
rocks.  In  the  village  streets  the  carpenter 
was  busy  with  his  plane,  the  women  sat  with- 
in the  shade  grinding  at  the  mill-stone,  or 
again  mixing  the  leaven  in  the  bread  now 
that  the  Passover  was  over. 

All  went  on  as  in  any  other  spring.  The 
ceaseless  Parables  were  being  lived  and  acted 
over  and  over,  as  on  those  three  former 
springs  when  the  eyes  of  One  not  of  this 
world  had  read  them,  and  had  shown  how 
what  to  earthly  eyes  seemed  but  pictures  or 
idle  traceries,  were  indeed  hieroglyphics,  sa- 
cred signs  of  a  priestly  language,  never  more 
to  be  forgotten  or  lost  to  men. 

But  to  some  hearts  on  these  shores  the  life 
and  the  meaning  must  have  passed  out  of  all 
the  world  with  those  tidings  from  Jerusalem. 

The  sick  might  be  laid  at  the  doors  to  feel 
the  breath  of  spring ;  but  nevermore  to  the 
end  of  time  would  they  feel  the  touch  which 
"  healed  them  all."  The  death-wail  might  re- 
sound along  the  streets ;  nevermore  to  the 
end  of  time,  in  cottage  or  palace,  would  it  be 
hushed,  and  changed  into  the  song  of  joy.  The 
storms  might  wear  themselves  out  on  the  tor- 
mented waters,  and  on  the  shattered  and  sink- 
ing ships  ;  nevermore  to  the  end  of  time  would 
the  quiet  words  of  the  voice  which  said,  "  It 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         395 

is  I :  be  not  afraid,"  calm  the  trembling  hearts 
of  men,  and  the  very  winds  themselves. 

But  to  those  who  loved  Him,  and  had 
learned  something  not  only  of  what  He  could 
do,  but  of  what  He  was — who  had  loved  Him 
enough  to  know  Him,  and  had  known  Him 
enough  to  worship  Him — what  must  have  the 
land  become  where  He  had  taught  for  threfl 
years,  and  would  never  teach  again  ?  What 
must  the  world  have  seemed,  where  it  was 
possible  for  Him  to  be  sentenced  as  a  male- 
factor, and  executed  as  the  basest  criminal  or 

slave  ? 

*  *  *  •**  * 

To  Siward  all  the  darkest  fears  of  his  old 
Northern  traditional  beliefs  came  back.  The 
whole  world  seemed  indeed  to  have  become 
the  dominion  of  the  evil  powers.  The  pow- 
ers of  life  and  light  (which  always,  as  he  had 
thought  in  childhood,  held  a  warfare  of  fear- 
ful peril  and  uncertainty  with  the  powers  of 
death  and  darkness,  and  had  more  than  once 
been  vanquished — and  vanquished  in  the  best 
and  most  beloved — by  blind  force  or  cruel 
stratagem)  were  most  surely  vanquished  now. 

The  terrible  tidings  did  not  exactly  sur- 
prise him.  It  was  like  so  much  that  he  had 
feared,  indeed,  or  had  seen.  It  was  only  the 
returning  in  the  darker  shape  of  the  fear  and 
doubt  that  had  hung  over  all  his  life  ;  only 


396         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

the  quenching  of  the  brightest  hope  he  had 
ever  ventured  to  receive,  as  other  hopes  had 
been  quenched  before. 

It  was  no  new  thing  for  nations  not  to  rec- 
ognize or  to  reject  those  who  would  have 
saved  them.  The  Germans  had  murdered 
Herman.  The  Greeks,  Laon  said,  had  poi- 
soned Socrates.  The  Romans  had  suffered 
Germanicus  to  be  slowly  poisoned,  and  went 
on  worshiping  Tiberius,  who  was  believed  to 
have  been  the  instigator  of  the  murder. 

It  was  no  new  thing  for  the  purest  to  suffer 
and  for  the  best  to  die.  Only,  in  such  a  world, 
for  such  a  race,  what  place  was  there  for  hope  ? 
What  a  delusion  all  his  visions  of  the  libera- 
tion of  his  people  had  been  !  What  chance 
was  there  of  his  doing  anything,  when  power 
and  wisdom  and  goodness  that  seemed  more 
than  human  had  failed  ?  What  certainty  was 
there  that,  if  he  or  any  succeeded  in  winning 
freedom  for  the  Germans,  freedom  would  for 
them  be  anything  better  than  freedom  to  as- 
sassinate some  other  Herman,  and  to  worship 
some  other  Tiberius ;  to  live,  as  Laon  had 
said,  more  utterly  like  the  beasts  of  the  forest, 
with  nothing  to  inspire  them  but  blind  hun- 
ger, and  nothing  to  restrain  them  but  blind 
terror  and  brute  force  ? 

He  spoke  little  ;  he  was  as  watchful  a  guar- 
dian as  ever  over  his  mother  and  Diodora ; 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         397 

but  all  the  light  had  gone  from  his  face.    Hope 
for  humanity  had  died  for  him  in  that  death. 

Everywhere,  as  he  saw,  not  as  of  old  only 
before  himself,  the  captive  and  the  slave,  but 
before  all  the  bravest  and  best,  as  the  goal  of 
the  highest  aims  of  all  men,  as  the  best  reward 
the  nation  had  for  the  patriot,  the  race  for  its 
benefactors — black  against  the  mid-day  sky, 
the  Cross, 

Henceforth  there  was  nothing  but  to  en- 
dure ; — to  endure,  because  it  was  better  to 
suffer  than  to  be  cruel ;  to  endure,  because 
there  was  no  hope  of  cure  ;  to  endure,  be- 
cause there  was  no  limit  to  the  amount  of  en- 
durance that  might  be  required  :  to  trample 
out  any  fond  spark  of  hope,  to  refuse  any  soft 
attraction  of  pleasure,  to  despise  honor,  to 
cling  as  slightly  as  possible  to  any  clasp  of 
affection, — lest  any  of  these  things  should  if 
possible  still  further  embitter  the  cup  of  an- 
guish and  shame  and  utter  abandonment, 
when  the  hands  used  in  the  service  of  men 
were  stretched  helpless  on  the  slave's  last 
rack  of  torture,  and  there  was  no  hiding  of 
the  quivering  face  from  the  mockery  of  satis- 
fied malignity,  or  the  cold  criticism  of  disap- 
pointed expectation. 

Since  the  Cross  was  the  reward  of  the 
world's  benefactors,  the  only  refuge  for  men 


398         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED 

who  would  not  be  wicked  "was  stoicism,  with- 
out relaxation  and  without  hope,  here  or  here- 
after ;  without  hope  for  men  or  for  man,  or  in 
God.  For  what,  after  all,  could  the  Deity  do 
more  than  endure,  with  a  longer  patience, 
evil  as  inevitable  to  God  as  to  man  ? 

With  Siguna  the  hope  had  been  more  limi- 
ted, and  the  grief  was  simpler.  For  the  poor 
crippled  maiden  there  could  now  be  no  de- 
liverance. She  must  bear  her  burden  to  the 
end.  Her  disappointment  showed  itself  chiefly 
in  a  tenderer  care  for  Diodora.  Since  hope 
was  slain,  she  must  as  far  as  might  be  make 
it  up  by  love. 

But,  to  her  amazement,  Diodora  scarcely 
seemed  to  grieve.  She  who  had  longed  most 
and  hoped  most  for  but  one  tone  of  that 
Voice,  now  that  it  was  silent  for  ever,  scarcely 
seemed  cast  down. 

Tears  indeed  were  often  falling  on  her  face, 
when  Siguna  glanced  at  her ;  unusual  tears, 
with  her  whose  sorrow  had  been  too  irreme- 
diable to  find  much  relief  in  weeping  ;  whose 
tears,  when  they  came,  had  come  in  a  passion- 
ate storm  of  indignation  against  the  wrong 
done  her  sister, — or  in  a  few  bitter  drops,  like 
drops  of  blood  wrung  from  her  heart. 

But  now  her  tears  fell  softly  ; — and  mean- 
time on  the  poor  worn  face  there  was  a  look 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         399 

of  tender  content,  at  times  glowing  into  joy, 
and  even  into  triumph. 

For  a  long  time  she  said  nothing,  and  the 
German  mother  did  not  dare  to  question.  At 
length  one  evening,  as  the  two  women  sat 
resting  on  a  quiet  beach  by  the  lake  of  Gali- 
lee, and  the  little  waves  were  rippling  at  their 
feet,  and  the  stars  were  shining  in  the  clear 
sky  with  the  boundless  depths  of  night  and 
the  countless  perspective  of  stars  behind  them, 
and  shining  again  in  the  still  waters,  quietly 
she  took  Siguna's  hand  and  laid  it  on  her 
cheek. 

"  I  am  content !"  she  said.  "  Content,  since 
He  belongs  no  more  to  this  visible  world,  but 
to  that,  to  them,  to  the  heavens.  It  can  be 
no  loss,  no  wrong  to  die,  since  He  has  died  ; 
has  died  and  has  been  buried." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

N  the  little  company  at  Antioch  the 
tidings  brought  by  the  three  way- 
farers from  Palestine  fell  with  very 
different  effect. 
Hilda,  the  happy  wife  and  mother,  wept 
bitterly  when  she  heard  it.  All  her  tender, 
joyous  heart  was  moved,  as  at  the  saddest 
history  she  had  ever  been  told.  Yet  it  fell 
outside  her  own  little  space  of  life  and  sun- 
shine. It  made  the  outside  world  indeed 
seem  colder  and  darker  than  ever,  and  lent  a 
passionate  force  to  the  clinging  to  her  hus- 
band and  children,  showing  in  what  a  peril- 
ous and  ungrateful  world  her  sweet  garden 
of  home  was  set.  She  parted  from  Callias 
with  more  tremulous  anxiety,  and  welcomed 
him  back  with  a  more  tumultuous  gladness — 
as  if  any  return  from  a  world. so  merciless 
were  like  a  rescue.  She  wrapped  her  children 
closer  and  warmer  than  ever  in  her  love  from 
the  terrible  cold  and  darkness  around. 
(400) 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        401 

To  Callias  it  gave  but  a  deeper  shattering 
to  the  chaos  of  uncertainty  in  which  all  things, 
seen  and  unseen,  national,  moral  and  spiritual, 
seemed  to  him  for  ever  fluctuating  ;  all  things 
save  that  little  island  of  purity  and  affection 
which  Hilda  kept  for  him  in  his  home. 

Siguna  grieved,  indeed,  and  lamented  over 
this  fearful  crime  and  wrong.  But  the  world 
was  full  of  crime,  and  woe,  and  wrong.  That 
very  year  Agrippina,  the  wife  of  Germanicus, 
worn  out  at  last  by  exile  and  persecution,  and 
by  the  wrongs  of  her  sons,  had  refused  to  take 
food,  and  had  died  of  starvation  at  Pandataria. 
Tiberius,  amidst  the  luxuriant  beauty  of  his 
twelve  villas  at  Caprese,  was  congratulating 
himself  that  she  had  saved  him  the  inconveni- 
ence of  another  murder  by  starving  herself  to 
death.  And  still  the  paradises  of  Capreae 
bloomed  on  unsmitten  by  any  audible  curse. 

In  Laon,  on  the  other  hand,  for  the  first 
time  a  real  interest  was  enkindled  in  the  In- 
nocent Sufferer.  Whilst  the  reports  of  the 
wise  and  holy  words  had  continued  to  echo 
to  them  from  Galilee,  he  had  occupied  him- 
self in  showing  that  they  were  not  altogether 
new,  or  not  altogether  true.  But  now  he  ac- 
knowledged that  there  was  something  admir- 
able in  the  life,  and  that  the  death  crowned  it. 
It  was  another  martyrdom  for  truth.  The 
Jews,  like  the  Athenians,  had  rejected  their 


402         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

best  and  wisest.  It  was  but  natural.  Socrates 
and  Plato  had  as  it  were  foreseen  it.  The 
Jews,  deeming  their  Just  One  unjust,  had  suf- 
fered Him  to  be  "  tortured,  fettered,  and  even 
crucified." 

And  thenceforth  he  listened  to  such  frag- 
ments as  reached  him  of  the  gracious  words 
without  endeavoring  to  prove  that  they  were 
valueless,  or  that  some  one  else  had  said  just 
the  same  before. 

To  Onias  the  tidings  brought  some  pain,  yet 
more  relief. 

At  length  the  Sanhedrim  and  the  Romans 
— and  therefore,  it  was  to  be  supposed,  Provi- 
dence, the  Unnameable — had  settled  the  doubt 
which  had  perplexed  him.  He  confessed  he 
should  scarcely  have  seen  his  way  to  such  a 
sentence.  But  herein  lay  the  comfort  of  hav- 
ing scribes  to  interpret  and  governors  to  de- 
cide for  you.  The  responsibility  fell  on  them. 
He  was  thankful  he  had  not  been  in  Jerusa- 
lem, or  even  in  Galilee,  at  the  time.  Many  of 
the  signs  and  wonders  had  seemed  over- 
whelming. The  teaching  (with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  the  vehement  denunciations  of  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees)  had  seemed  worthy  of 
the  prophets.  And,  he  confessed,  many  of  the 
ancient  prophecies  had  seemed  to  be  strangely 
fulfilled ;  which  was,  of  course,  only  another 
proof  of  the  peril  of  unlearned  interpretations 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        403 

of  prophec}7.  The  scribes  and  Pharisees  had 
evidently  understood  the  question  from  the 
beginning,  as  was  to  be  expected  of  scribes 
and  Pharisees.  And  the  Romans  had  finally 
and  for  ever,  however  roughly,  ended  the  con- 
troversy. He  wondered  a  little  that  the  San- 
hedrim had  consented  to  concede  so  much  to 
the  Roman  governor.  The  doom  of  a  Roman 
slave  was  scarcely  one  which  should  have 
been  suffered  to  fall  on  any  freeborn  Jew. 
But  no  doubt  the  rulers  estimated  the  peril 
better  than  he  could.  The  whole  nation, 
they  probably  saw,  was  in  danger  of  being 
led  astray.  No  doubt  the  Sanhedrim  had  act- 
ed for  the  best.  If  it  had  been  of  God,  it  was 
plain  it  could  never  have  come  to  such  an  end. 
Failure  was  the  best  cure  for  delusion.  And 
a  delusion  so  popular,  perhaps,  required  a  re- 
futation such  as  all  the  people  could  not  fail 
to  understand.  Nevertheless,  he  confessed, 
he  did  feel  thankful  that  Providence  had  cast 
his  lot  at  Antioch,  and  not  at  Jerusalem,  dur- 
ing the  trial.  It  was  a  comfort  not  to  have 
had  to  decide. 

On  Esther  and  on  Siward  the  gloom  fell 
deepest.  To  Siward  it  was  an  extinction  of 
hope  in  man  and  God. 

To  Esther  it  was  an  extinction  of  hope  for 
Israel.  If  not  the  Messiah,  she  felt  sure  that 
He  who  had  thus  suffered  at  Jerusalem  was 


404        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

one  who  had  loved  Israel,  had  loved  God,  and 
had  loved  men  as  none  had  ever  done  before. 

Before  the  Romans  no  accusation  could  be 
brought  against  Him,  but  that  He  had  'said 
He  was  King  of  the  Jews.  Before  the  San- 
hedrim no  fault  could  be  alleged,  but  that  He 
said,  I  am  the  Son  of  God. 

If  neither  of  these  were  true — the  royal 
claims,  or  the  divine — yet  the  wonders  of 
healing  were  true ;  the  years  of  patient  min- 
istering to  every  want  of  the  needy,  of  holy 
teaching  which  none  could  gainsay.  No  king 
of  Israel  would  ever  come  endowed  with 
more  wisdom,  and  power,  and  patriotism. 
No  son  of  man  could  ever  come  again — if  all 
she  heard  was  true — with  more  likeness  to 
God,  "  long-suffering,  full  of  compassion,  for- 
giving sin,  yet  by  no  means  clearing  the 
guilty."  If,  on  the  other  hand,  both  of  these 
assertions  for  which  they  had  put  him  to 
death  were  true,  what  would  be  the  fate  of 
Israel  then  ? 

All  her  woman's  heart  and  all  her  Hebrew 
patriotism  were  stirred  to  the  depths. 

In  an  agony  of  pity  she  would  moan  and 
sob  for  hours.  Among  the  thousands  those 
hands  had  touched,  healing  and  blessing, 
were  there  none  to  succour  or  to  save  ? 

And  then  the  pity  would  be  frozen  back  by 
a  horror  of  apprehension. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        405 

What  if,  as  of  old,  her  people  had  rejected 
their  prophets ;  if,  as  they  had  scornfully  re- 
fused Moses,  and  thrown  Jeremiah  into  the 
dungeon ;  if,  as  when  the  Table  of  the  Law 
was  being  written  by  the  finger  of  God  on  the 
Mount,  under  the  very  echo  of  the  thunder 
and  the  shadow  of  the  cloud  that  hid  the 
lightnings,  they  had  danced  round  the  calf; 
if,  as  when  the  beautiful  Temple  was  illumin- 
ed by  the  Divine  glory,  and  the  sacrifices  con- 
sumed by  the  heavenly  fires  on  the  opposite 
height  of  Olivet,  they  had  worshiped  the 
images  of  base  and  cruel  idols ; — what  if,  as 
they  had  resisted  God  so  long,  now  at  last 
they  had  rejected  the  Best  and  the  Last,  and, 
in  very  sight  of  the  redemption  of  the  Re- 
deemer, had  turned  aside  to  the  bondage  at 
once  of  their  own  sins  and  of  the  Roman 
yoke ! 

Day  and  night  the  vision  of  that  great 
crime  haunted  her  as  if  on  her  hands  also  the 
ineffaceable  blood-stain  rested.  She  made  no 
outward  show  of  woe.  Of  what  avail  were 
sackcloth  and  ashes  ? 

If  Israel  had  delivered  her  Deliverer  to 
Roman  mockery  and  torture,  what  could  re- 
main but  a  fearful  vengeance ;  another  Red 
Sea,  with  no  pillar  of  fire,  and  no  Divine  Hand 
to  cleave  a  path  through  its  overwhelming 
waves — another  Sinai,  with  no  supplicating 


406         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

Moses  to  intercede  and  shield  from  its  just 
lightnings. 

But  from  Clcelia  Diodora  the  solemn  peace 
that  had  come,  as  they  journeyed  through 
Galilee,  did  not  pass  away. 

She  was  on  the  side,  not  of  the  Jews  or 
of  the  Romans,  but  of  the  Sufferer,  of  the 
Dead. 

This  world  had  slain  its  Best.  Israel  had 
rejected  her  King.  Was  it  so  wonderful,  or 
so  unendurable  ? 

So  much  as  this  poor,  blind,  visible  world 
had  lost,  so  much  the  Hades,  the  unseen  had 
secured. 

Thither  had  passed  all  that  wisdom  and 
power  and  goodness. 

To  be  as  He  was,  could  be  no  wrong  to  her 
beloved.  To  be  where  He  was  must  be  joy 
and  how  unutterable !  If  her  beloved  could 
indeed  hear  that  Voice  and  see  that  Face  she 
would  glady  have  died  to  hear  and  see,  she 
was  content.  One  day  she  would  also  die; 
she  also  would  hear  and  see.  Meantime  she 
could  wait,  content,  if  only  the  waiting  and 
the  dimness  were  for  her  and  not  for  her  be- 
loved— content  if  the  loss  and  wrong  were 
only  hers — content  indeed  with  the  brief 
waiting  and  the  being  satisfied  for  ever. 

Content ! — nay,  in  a  rapture  of  expectation, 
even  now  and  always,  if  only  she  could  be 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         407 

certain,  as  He  they  had  crucified  had  been 
certain,  of  the  goodness  of  God. 

The  probability  on  which  Socrates  had 
been  content  to  launch  forth  into  the  un- 
known, had  seemed  to  her,  of  old,  strong 
enough  to  die  on. 

The  hope  that  life  so  yielded  up  inspired, 
seemed  strong  enough  to  trust  her  beloved 
to,  which  was  infinitely  more. 

One  or  two  rumors  of  that  day  on  Calvary, 
brief  and  broken,  floated  to  her,  which  made 
her  hope  all  but  a  certainty. 

There  was  a  report  of  a  strange  darkness  at 
noon,  and  of  an  earthquake,  and  a  convulsion 
of  the  rocks.  This  might  very  probably  have 
been,  she  thought,  but  this  was  not  what 
moved  her.  To  her  it  mattered  little. 

The  sun  which  could  light  the  murderers 
to  such  a  deed,  and  the  earth  which  could 
suffer  such  a  burden  to  be  laid  on  her  as  that 
Cross,  might  well  bear  anything.  He  had 
passed  beyond  their  apathy,  or  their  sym- 
pathy. 

But  two  reported  sayings  rested  on  her  heart. 

It  was  said  that  a  Roman  centurion  who 
had  seen  Him  die,  had  broken  through  his 
Roman  apathy  and  his  soldierly  silence,  and 
had  exclaimed  that  He  was  the  Son  of  God. 

Such  majesty,  such  divinity  had  shone 
through  that  shame  and  torture ! 


4o8        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

And  it  was  said  that  the  last  words  He  had 
uttered  on  that  rack  of  anguish  were  no  com- 
plaint, no  menace,  no  cry  of  agonized  entreaty, 
but  calm  'and  clear, — 

"  Father,  into  Thy  hands  I  commend  My 
spirit." 

If  this  were  true,  then  all  she  hoped  and 
longed  for  was  true.  And  it  must  be  true. 
For  who,  in  all  the  world,  among  the  Romans, 
had  ever  heard  such  dying  words?  Would 
His  enemies  among  the  Jews  have  invented 
them  ?  Or,  if  His  friends  had  dared  imagine 
words  to  put  into  His  dying  lips,  would  they 
have  abstained  from  one  tone  of  menace  on 
the  murderers — one  hint  of  majesty  to  be 
avenged  ? 

Those  words  were  true.  She  was  sure  of 
this.  Then,  if  they  were  true,  all  the  best  she 
cared  to  hope  for  was  true  ;  better  than  all  she 
had  dared  to  desire  was  true. 

To  die  is  to  go  home. 

When,  as  Plato  thought,  the  spirit  is  liberat- 
ed by  death  from  its  prison — when,  as  the  Jew- 
ish Catacombs  pictured,  as  an  uncaged  dove 
it  soars  forth  into  the  free  air — it  soars  not  be- 
wildered into  the  infinite  heavens.  Hands 
receive  it,  strong  and  gentle.  The  hands  of 
the  Father. 

The  unseen  world  is  the  kingdom,  the  world 
of  God.  God  is  the  Father. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        409 

Let  this  world  then  be  what  it  may.  It 
matters  not.  Let  this  whole  life  be  a  slumber, 
a  dream,  or  a  weary  waiting,  the  whole  world 
a  shadow.  There  the  spirits  of  the  just  are  at 
home ;  now,  at  once,  for  ever ;  at  home  with 
the  Father.  There  they  are  living  now,  not 
waiting  to  be  revivified,  but  living ;  awake 
now,  not  fettered  in  slumbers,  however  calm  ; 
not  waiting  to  be  awakened  after  a  silence 
and  blank  of  centuries,  but  awake  as  those 
whom  infinite  love  has  welcomed  to  infinite 
joy. 

Living,  awake,  at  home,  satisfied,  like  God, 
like  what  they  were  made  to  be ;  seeing  the 
face  of  God,  and  finding  it  the  face  of  the 
Father. 


18 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 


HE  spring  passed,  and  summer  came 
to  Epidaphne. 

The  streams  which  had  prattled 
like  joyous  children  among  the  frag- 
rant flowery  thickets,  now  plashed  and  bub- 
bled in  the  depths  of  dark  foliage  with  a  music 
which  bathed  the  very  heart  in  delicious  cool- 
ness. Some  blossoms  had  ripened  into  fruit, 
the  green  of  many  corn-fields  had  mellowed 
into  gold. 

The  wild  revelries  in  the  groves  of  Epi- 
daphne over  the  sun-god  restored  to  life,  were 
passing  on  to  the  day  of  wild  lamentings  over 
the  sun-god  slain. 

The  Jewish  Festival  of  Rescue  from  the 
Land  of  Bondage,  with  its  symbols  of  the  bit- 
ter herbs  and  the  spotless  lamb  slain,  was  over 
in  Jerusalem.  It  had  been  replaced  by  the 
Festival  of  the  First-fruits;  the  first  golden 
sheaves,  the  first  loaves  of  the  new  harvest, 
waved  before  the  Holy  of  Holies. 

Doubtless  the  veil  rent  from  top  to  bottom 
(410) 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

early  in  that  spring-  had  been  repaired,  and 
the  darkness»  and  the  void  were  unbroken  in 
the  inner  sanctuary,  before  which  the  venera- 
ble rites  of  so  many  centuries  continued  to 
be  celebrated. 

Some  reason  which  he  would  not  acknowl- 
edge to  any  one,  perhaps  not  to  himself,  kept 
Onias  from  attempting  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem 
that  year  to  keep  any  of  the  feasts. 

To  Esther  the  pilgrimage  would  have  seem- 
ed as  a  pilgrimage  to  the  mount  that  burned 
with  fire.  One  thing  only  she  would  have 
cared  to  visit  there.  One  tomb. 

Yet  even  this,  rumors  began  to  say,  would 
be  found  empty.  Vague  reports  reached  them 
at  Antioch  of  the  disciples  of  the  Crucified 
having  stolen  the  body  of  Him  they  loved  so 
dearly ;  waking,  as  timid  but  affectionate 
hearts  too  often  do,  to  a  desperate  courage 
when  courage  was  too  late  to  save. 

To  one  of  those  rumors  was  added  a  strange 
addition  by  way  of  explanation. 

His  disciples  had  stolen  Him  away  while 
the  Roman  guard  set  to  watch  the  sepulchre 
had  slept ;  the  guard  set  to  watch  because  He 
Jiad  said  He  would  rise  again  from  the  dead. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  fatal  tidings  had 
reached  her,  and  the  first  anguish  had  spent 
itself,  Esther  seemed  to  awake  from  the  stony 
torpor  into  which  she  had  fallen. 


4I2         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

There  had,  then,  been  a  promise  of  a  Resur- 
rection. There  had  been  a  feav  of  it  among 
His  enemies.  So  strong  a  fear,  that  they  had 
asked  for  a  Roman  guard  to  watch  the  tomb. 
The  people  who  had  risen  in  insurrection,  a 
few  years  before,  at  the  introduction  of  any 
Roman  soldiers  into  Jerusalem,  had  been  pos- 
sessed with  such  a  desperate  fear  that  the 
promise  of  their  murdered  victim  might 
prove  true,  that  they  had  waived  all  Jewish 
rights  and  Jewish  prejudices,  and  entreated 
the  Governor  for  a  guard — the  very  Governor 
from  whom  they  had  wrung  the  concession 
not  to  introduce  his  troops  and  their  standards 
into  Jerusalem. 

The  guard  so  dearly  purchased  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  its  purpose. 

Roman  soldiers  had  slept  at  their  post,  had 
committed  an  unpardonable  offence  against 
Roman  discipline,  and  had  suffered  this  crime 
of  theirs  to  be  spoken  of  openly. 

In  spite  of  the  Roman  guard,  a  few  disap- 
pointed and  broken-hearted  Galileans  had 
rescued  from  the  tomb  the  dishonored  form 
no  dishonor  could  make  less  or  dear  to  them. 
From  a  tomb  close  to  the  walls  of  the  city. 

What  could  this  mean  ? 

The  words  of  the  Sufferer  had  indeed  been 
mighty,  since  His  unavenged  death  could 
leave  them  still  so  strong. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Could  there  be,  after  all — could  there  pos- 
sibly be  even  yet — a  hope?  another  side  to 
this  perplexed  rumor?  another  page  in  this 
most  mournful  history  ?  a  hope  for-those  who 
love  Him  yet? 

Once  more,  with  that  faint  glimmer  of  a 
hope,  tears  came  to  the  Jewess,  and  prayers, 
and  a  venturing  once  more,  though  with 
trembling  hands,  to  open  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures of  her  people,  which  for  weeks  had  been 
to  her  as  Sinai,  as  the  mount  which  must  not 
be  touched,  from  which  at  any  time  might 
burst  forth  the  slumbering  thunders  and  the 
lightnings  of  most  just  menace,  scorching  her 
heart. 

Once  more,  in  the  little  inner  chamber  open- 
ing on  the  garden,  the  two  women,  Diodora 
and  Esther,  sat  together  searching  the  ancient 
books.  But  this  time  it  was  Esther  who  was 
longing  with  trembling  passionate  longing  for 
some  clear  message.  On  Diodora  had  dawn- 
ed the  hope  and  the  calm. 

And  as  they  looked  and  listened  a  new 
world  seemed  to  arise  before  the  Jewess, 
which  she  had  not  seen  there  before.  New 
forms  seemed  to  start  up  out  of  the  old  pages ; 
dim  and  shadowy  indeed,  and  dissolving  into 
something  else,  or  into  darkness,  just  when 
they  seemed  becoming  clearest.  Or  rather, 
indeed,  it  seemed  One  Form,  most  majestic 


414        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

and  most  sorrowful,  claiming  for  Himself  a 
supremacy  in  sorrow  ;  honored  with  an  honor 
above  that  due  to  man,  yet  trampled  under 
foot,  a  worm  and  no  man ;  beloved  above  all 
by  God,  yet  feeling  forsaken  by  God  ;  bruised 
by  the  enemy,  yet  destroying  him ;  vanquish- 
ed, yet  victorious ;  always  a  Promise  shining 
through  every  promise,  a  Hope  strong  beyond 
every  fulfilled  hope,  a  Seed  of  Abraham  still 
longed  for  after  Isaac  was  born,  a  Lawgiver 
anticipated  by  the  great  Lawgiver  himself, 
the  Conqueror  of  a  Rest  Joshua  never  gave, 
Shepherd  to  the  flocks  of  God  such  as  David 
could  not  be,  King  with  a  majesty  and  an 
universal  dominion  such  as  Solomon  never 
reached.  And  yet  through  all  the  notes  of 
triumph  Esther  began  to  hear  tones  of  anguish 
unutterable,  of  sorrow  which  no  sorrow  could 
equal,  as  superhuman  as  the  majesty  ;  of  woe 
which  was  no  accident  but  an  essential  attri- 
bute,— woe  borne  willingly,  yet  crushing  the 
sufferer  to  the  dust ;  an  agony  intertwined 
with  all  the  victory,  as  if  essential  to  the  vic- 
tory and  the  redemption  it  wrought.  Such  a 
strange  blending  and  conflict  of  power  and 
weakness,  of  majesty  and  mockery,  of  suffer- 
ing and  triumph,  that  it  is  said  some  old  inter- 
preters had  thought  there  must  be  two  Mes- 
siahs, one  to  suffer  and  one  to  reign.  Could 
it  be  possible  that  all  these  dim  and  broken 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        415 

foreshadowings  met  in  Him  who  had  raised 
the  dead  in  Galilee,  and  died  unresisting  at 
Jerusalem  ? 

Then  vain  indeed  would  be  the  Jewish 
stratagem  and  the  Gentile  guard.  No  power 
on  earth  or  in  hell  could  baffle  His  resurrec- 
tion. 

But  if  indeed  He  rose,  with  what  terror  on 
the  patient  brows,  with  what  lightnings  around 
the  despised  and  tortured  form  ! 

The  pillar  of  fire  whence  of  old  the  God  of 
Israel  troubled  Pharaoh  and  his  host,  as  they 
struggled  drowning  in  the  returning  waters, 
would  be  but  a  child's  terror  to  the  sight  of 
the  Face  they  had  mocked,  drooping  on  the 
cross — the  Face  of  the  betrayed  King,  who 
might  have  been  their  King,  and  was  now  the 
King  of  the  world,  and  their  Judge. 

And  He,  it  seemed,  had  said  He  would  rise 
again  !  His  disciples  believed  it ;  his  enemies 
feared  it. 

And  something  had  happened,  which  his  mur- 
derers explained  by  saying  a  guard  of  Roman 
soldiers  had  slept  at  their  post. 

*v  "K*  •«•*  3$ 

Meanwhile,  as  Diodora  read,  once  again  the 
iron  entered  her  soul,  ploughing  the  old  fur- 
row. Once  more  the  two  pervading  presences 
of  those  ancient  Books  took  their  absorbing 
place  in  her  heart.  Once  more  the  thought 


416         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  God — holy,  infinite,  immutable — rose  be- 
fore her  in  all  its  majesty  ;  and  the  thought  of 
sin  sank  before  her  in  all  its  depth  of  degra- 
dation. 

If,  as  she  felt,  the  life  and  death  of  that 
beneficent  and  patient  Sufferer  made  immor- 
tality for  Him  a  certainty, — if  the  chasm 
between  man  and  God  in  Him  ceased  to  be, — 
was  there  not  still  an  impassable  gulf  between 
Him  and  other  men?  If,  as  it  seemed,  He 
Himself  were  without  sin,  and  therefore  with- 
out separation  from  God,  did  not  that  very 
sinlessness  separate  Him  as  far  almost  as  God 
Himself  from  sinful  men  ?  If  immortality  had 
become  more  than  a  probability  through  His 
being  suffered  to  die,  what  was  to  ensure  im- 
mortality being  a  going  home  to  God  for  any 
but  Him  ? 

The  race  which  included  Him  and  His 
murderers  must  surely  include  two  very  con- 
trary destinies.  The  same  Father's  house, 
the  same  divine  Patria,  could  scarcely  include 
Him  and  Tiberius  Caesar,  or  the  endless  grades 
of  character  between  Him  and  Tiberius  Caesar. 
Where  did  the  chasm  between  him  and  other 
men  begin  ?  Where  the  reconciliation  be- 
tween man  and  his  God  ? 

If  the  question  of  immortality  seemed  solved 
in  Him,  what  of  the  questions  below  and  be- 
yond it? — what  of  sin  and  forgiveness?  If 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        417 

the  link  between  Him  and  God  was  not  to  be 
broken,  where  was  the  link  between  Him  and 
man? 

So  once  more  the  old  Book  ploughed  its 
problems  into  the  hearts  of  those  who  searched 
it ;  and  still  the  solution  had  not  fully  come. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

T  last  the  tidings  came  to  Antioch 
that  something  altogether  new  was 
indeed  happening  at  Jerusalem  ;  per- 
plexing beyond  all  perplexities,  un- 
less it  was  to  be  a  solution  of  perplexities ; 
dissolving  the  old  order  into  chaos,  the  most 
chaotic  element  in  the  old  chaos — unless,  in- 
deed, the  beginning  of  a  new  order. 

It  was  said  that  the  little  band  of  disciples, 
chiefly  Galileans,  who  had  followed  the  Naza- 
rene,  instead  of  being  scattered  by  His  death, 
had  been  gathered  into  a  body,  compact  and 
firm,  as  it  had  never  been  before  deprived  of 
its  Head. 

A  knot  of  timid  peasants  and  fishermen, 
slow  to  learn,  and  possessed  with  ideas  of  His 
destiny  totally  different  from  that  of  their 
Master,  seemed  suddenly  to  have  become — 
together,  a  living  community,  united  by  in- 
dissoluble bonds ;  and,  separately,  each  one  a 
living  power,  endowed  with  something  of  the 
(418) 


VICTORY  OF -TEE   VANQUISHED. 

character  and  aims  of  the  Master  they  had 
lost. 

The  characteristics  of  His  teaching  had  been 
that  He  made  Himself  the  substance  of  it ; 
that,  unlike  all  the  ancient  true  lovers  of  wis- 
dom, He  had  persistently  turned  the  thoughts 
of  His  disciples  from  His  doctrine  to  Himself. 
And  now  He  Himself  had  vanished  from  the 
world, — to  all  appearance  defeated,  dishonor- 
ed, dead  ;  and  His  doctrine  was  spreading  as 
in  His  life  it  had  never  spread, — pricking  the 
consciences  of  men  and  enkindling  their 
hearts  by  thousands. 

The  characteristic  of  His  disciples  had  been 
a  devoted  personal  attachment  to  Himself — a 
clinging,  reverent  affection — a  hanging  on 
His  words — a  watchful  responsiveness  to  His 
very  looks.  And  now  that  the  Object  of  a 
love  so  adoring  and  dependent  had  been 
taken  from  them  for  ever  by  a  death  so  full  of 
failure,  and  pain,  and  shame,  instead  of  their 
life  becoming  one  long  mourning  for  their 
lost  Lord,  they  were  said  to  be  living  in  a 
glow  of  gladness  that  could  not  be  concealed 
— meeting  continually  in  the  Temple,  singing 
praises  to  God,  and,  by  their  very  certainty 
and  joy,  winning  multitudes  to  believe  as 
they  did. 

The  explanation :  many  believed  He  had 
risen  from  the  dead.  They  were  sure  of  it. 


420        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

They  had  seen  Him  again  and  again  in  the 
early  gray  of  morning,  at  noon,  at  evening ; 
outside  the  sepulchre,  with  the  useless  grave- 
clothes  folded  inside  ;  in  an  upper  room  of 
the  Temple  itself;  on  the  slopes  of  Olivet; 
on  the  familiar  beaches  of  the  lake  of  Galilee. 

He  had  spoken  to  them  by  name,  and  to 
two  especially,  the  Magdalene  and  Peter — the 
faithful  love  that  yearned  for  recognition,  and 
the  unfaithful  love  that  might  have  dreaded 
it. 

He  had  eaten  with  them.  He  had  been  the 
guest  of  two  of  them  at  supper,  and  had  bro- 
ken bread  in  the  way  so  familiar  to  them. 
He  had  made  them  His  guests  on  the  sea- 
shore in  Galilee,  waiting  for  them  after  the 
weary  night  of  unsuccessful  fishing,  with  the 
little  fire  of  coals,  and  the  simple  fishermen's 
fare  on  it ;  no  ambrosia  or  nectar,  but  broiled 
fish  and  bread. 

No  mere  midnight  apparition,  no  vision,  no 
mysterious  voice  :  "  It  is  I  Myself." 

They  had  seen'  Him,  seen  the  prints  in 
hands  or  side  ;  touched  Him,  listened  to  Him. 
He  had  quietly  explained  to  them  the  things 
concerning  Himself  in  the  ancient  Scriptures. 

Again  and  again  they  had  seen  Him,  only 
with  one  difference.  He  was  no  longer  a 
denizen  of  this  lower  world. 

And  at  last  they  had  seen  Him  ascend  at 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         421 

Bethany,  near  the  old  familiar  home  of  the 
brother  and  sister  He  loved. 

Quietly,  naturally,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
ascending  from  this  unworthy  world  that  had 
so  dishonored  Him  in  no  magnificent  burst 
of  storms ;  taken  up  to  heaven  in  no  imperial 
chariot  of  fire,  no  legions  of  angels  visibly 
bearing  Him  aloft — not  even  the  few  who 
sang  to  the  shepherds  when  He  was  born ; 
only  soaring  through  the  air  as  easily  as  He 
had  trodden  the  sea,  hidden  from  their  strain- 
ing eyes  by  a  simple,  ordinary  cloud.  The 
Master,  as  He  rose,  lifting  up  His  hands,  and 
blessing  them,  as  He  had  blessed  their  simple 
food  so  often  before.  Lord  of  sea,  and  air, 
and  earth,  and  heaven,  and  man.  Soaring  to 
his  throne  on  the  right  hand  of  God. 

They  went  back  as  He  had  told  them,  as 
two  of  his  angels  came  to  remind  them.  They 
went  back  to  Jerusalem. 

Not  in  gazing  after  Him  into  heaven,  not 
even  in  living  on  the  memory  of  His  life,  were 
their  lives  to  be  spent. 

By  no  slowly-decaying  impulse  of  a  Found- 
er was  His  kingdom  launched  ;  but  by  the 
inspiration  of  a  perpetual  Presence,  and  a 
perpetually  renewed  life. 

They  waited  in  Jerusalem,  still  the  little 
flock  of  faithful  men  and  women,  until  some 
power  came  upon  them  which  divested  them 


422         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  all  fear,  and  endowed  them  with  an  elo- 
quence which  in  one  day  raised  their  numbers 
from  the  hundred  and  twenty  He  left,  to  three 
thousand. 

The  Christ  had  vanished  from  sight  into 
heaven.  But  the  Church  had  come  into  be- 
ing, and  for  a  time  at  least  shone  manifestly,  a 
light  and  a  joy  to  all  around. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 


Church  had  been  born  into  the 
world.     But  as    yet  she   knew   not 
herself;  knew  not  her  strength,  nor 
J  her  nature,  the  glory  of  her  destiny, 


or  the  bitterness  of  the  cup  she  would  have 
to  drink  ;  knew  only  the  glory  of  her  Lord, 
and  the  bitter  cup  He  had  drunk  for  her. 

What  every  fresh  child's  life  is  in  the  homes 
it  brightens,  for  a  brief  time  the  Church  was 
in  this  worn  old  world. 

The  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart,  the 
crown  and  glory  of  childhood  were  on  her, 
and  she,  like  her  Lord  in  His  childhood  at 
Nazareth,  for  a  time  had  favor  with  all  the 
people. 

A  serene  childhood,  touching  and  winning 
the  hearts  of  men  in  that  weary,  faded  old 
world. 

It  was  into  no  legendary  life  of  innocence 
and  faith  that  the  glory  of  that  fresh  life 
came. 

(4*3) 


424        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

The  age  of  Tiberius  Caesar,  of  the  Rhetori- 
cians, of  the  Contractors,  of  the  Gladiatorial 
Games,  was  no  spring-time  of  the  world. 

The  Church  had  begun  to  live  at  Jerusa- 
lem. But  as  yet  she  had  little  sense  of  her 
universal  dominion.  To  herself,  in  great  part, 
as  well  as  to  those  outside,  she  seemed  still  a 
sect  of  the  Jews.  She  was  not  yet  christened. 
Not  at  Jerusalem  did  she  find  her  trua  name. 

The  first  joy  was  enough  for  those  first 
days. 

The  Lord  was  risen  indeed,  and  had  shed 
forth  that  marvellous  power,  anointing  one 
after  another  out  of  the  palaces  of  His  glad- 
ness with  the  oil  of  joy,  as  kings.  That  the 
anointing  of  the  kings  was  also  that  of  the 
wrestlers,  did  not  as  yet  appear. 

He  was  risen.  He  was  living.  He  was 
forgiving.  In  heaven,  at  God's  right  hand ; 
on  earth  at  their  right  hand,  every  day  to  the 
end  of  the  world. 

It  would  be  some  time  before  more  truth 
could  be  learned,  or  more  joy  contained  in 
human  hearts,  than  this. 

Moreover,  beyond  all  this  joy  of  the  past 
thus  brought  to  their  remembrance,  of  His 
presence  with  them  assured  to  their  hearts, 
rose  the  joy  of  the  future  which  would  crown 
all. 

He  was  coming  again. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        425 

For  a  little  while  the  heavens  had  received 
Him.  For  a  little  while  they  were  here  to 
turn  the  hearts  of  men  to  Him.  Diligent  and 
joyful  must  they  be  for  that  little  while, 
touching  the  treasures  of  earth  very  lightly, 
and  very  little  disturbed  by  its  storms. 

But  as  yet  the  Church  remained  at  Jerusa- 
lem. Elsewhere,  there  were  only  a  few  Jews 
whose  hearts  might  be  stirred  with  wonder 
at  the  things  happening-  at  Jerusalem  ;  and  a 
few  Gentile  proselytes,  who  might  faintly 
catch  the  echo,  and  carry  it  on. 

On  the  heathen  world,  as  yet,  no  sign  that 
the  Light  had  indeed  dawned  for  them. 

In  the  Jewish  synagogues,  no  suspicion  that 
any  Gentile  would  ever  approach  God,  except 
by  becoming,  as  far  as  possible,  a  Jew. 
•x  *  *  *  -*  # 

A  great  stir  and  movement  agitated  the 
hearts  of  the  little  company  at  Antioch,  as  in 
broken  fragments  the  rumors  of  these  things 
reached  them. 

Confused  murmurs  floated  hither  and  thith- 
er of  miracles  of  healing,  of  rapturous  speech 
in  many  tongues,  of  a  pouring  of  separate 
possessions  into  a  common  store,  all  barriers 
of  selfishness  swept  over  by  a  flood  of  joy  and 
loyalty. 

But  above  all  rose  distinct  the  great  fact 


426        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

that  this  community  was  founded  on  the  Res- 
urrection. 

"  It  was  a  strange  age,"  old  Laon  said,  "  for 
such  mystical  enthusiasm  and  child-like  over- 
flowings of  generosity.  A  hard,  prosaic,  un- 
believing age.  While  this  golden  age  of  in- 
nocence and  sunshine,  this  ideal,  Platonic 
republic — or  whatever  you  liked  to  term  it — 
was  rising  into  life  at  Jerusalem,  at  Capreae 
the  aged  Emperor  was  vainly  trying  to  ex- 
tract one  drop  of  new  pleasure  out  of  this  dry, 
withered  world  ;  at  Pandataria,  the  dead  prin- 
cess Agrippina  had  at  last  reached  her  long- 
desired  repose,  through  the  agonies  of  volun- 
tary starvation.  At  Rome,  the  god  Caesar 
and  the  Mint-goddess  were  being  diligently 
served ;  new  men  were  devising  ways  to 
build  new  fortunes,  and  old  families  were 
struggling  to  restore  lost  fortunes  by  con- 
tracting for  the  taxation  of  the  provinces. 
Rhetoricians  were  teaching  the  young  Ro- 
mans how  to  use  words  which  had  once 
grown,  living,  around  living  thought  and 
feeling,  to  conceal  the  absence  of  thought  and 
feeling.  The  strongest  agents  of  Government 
were  the  Informers  ;  the  mass  of  the  citizens 
were  regarding  their  political  rights  as  mere 
coin  to  purchase  personal  advantages  with. 
Faith  in  the  gods  and  in  men,  in  the  family 
in  the  country,  in  virtue,  and  in  truth,"  he 


VICTORY  OF  TUB   VANQUISHED.         427 

said,  "  had  vanished.  With  faith  in  each 
other,  faith  in  themselves  had  died  in  the 
hearts  of  men,  and  nothing  remained  but  a 
blind  love  of  self." 

The  Emperor  and  the  Romans  were  living 
in  perpetual  terror  of  each  other:  Tiberius 
afraid  to  enter  Rome,  and  the  Romans  crouch- 
ing in  bewildered  terror  before  the  Informers 
— the  lives  of  both  so  embittered  and  cramped 
by  mutual  fear,  that  they  fluctuated  between 
cruelty  and  vice,  as  the  only  pleasures  left. 

While  the  morning  songs  of  thanksgiving 
and  the  joy  of  forgiveness  were  pouring  from 
the  lips  of  the  Christians  at  Jerusalem,  at  Ca- 
preas  this  terrible  cry  of  despair  was  wrung 
from  the  heart  of  Tiberius, — "  What  I  shall 
write  to  you,  Conscript  Fathers,  or  what  not 
write,  the  gods  and  goddesses  make  me  per- 
ish with  a  worse  destruction  than  that  by  which 
I  am  perishing  every  day,  if  I  know  !" 

Few  contrasts  so  strong  have  come  so  close 
to  each  other  as  that  new  Song  of  Eternal  Life, 
and  that  cynical  wail  of  inward  eternal  death. 

"  Force  was  the  only  thing,"  Laon  said, 
"  really  believed  in,  in  that  hard,  smooth,  old, 
Roman  world,  —  the  force  of  the  Imperial 
Government  on  earth ;  the  force  of  a  black 
magic  to  wrench,  from  those  who  kept  them, 
the  secrets  of  the  future  and  the  unseen." 


428        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

And  in  such  a  world  appeared  this  living, 
loving,  rejoicing  community ;  poor  and  de- 
fenceless, but  gloriously  liberated  from  all 
fear,  mightily  lifted  above  all  force ;  built  on 
faith  in  God,  in  each  other,  and  in  that  mighty 
Master.  They  appeared  not  in  some  remote 
region  of  pastoral  simplicity,  but  in  the  heart 
of  one  of  the  world's  great  cities — not  a  holy 
city,  but  a  city  of  political  intrigue  and  petty 
traffic ;  of  bargaining,  even  with  God,  about 
tithes  of  mint,  anise,  and  cummin  ;  of  the  dri- 
est ceremonialism,  and  the  fiercest  partizan- 
ship.  They  aimed  at  no  vestal  isolation  or 
supernatural  spiritualism.  They  aimed  at  be- 
ing good  men  and  women.  They  won  men 
and  women  of  every  rank  and  party  to  join 
them.  And  amidst  that  corrupt  society,  all 
who  did  join  them  at  once  partook  of  this 
love  and  faith  and  joy. 

Old  Laon  looked  on,  and  confessed  it  was 
strange — a  rare  exclamation  from  him.  He 
could  link  it  on  to  no  old  facts,  and  explain  it 
away  into  no  old  doctrine. 

"  If  this  had  sprung  up  in  some  mystical 
forest  of  your  young  German  world,"  he  said 
to  Siward,  "  I  might  have  understood  it.  But 
such  a  fresh  growth  from  these  dry  old  trunks 
is  not  so  easily  to  be  comprehended.  We 
must  wait  and  watch." 

From  Hilda  a  great  weight  seemed  removed. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        429 

If  the  Resurrection  was  indeed  true,  she 
thought,  this  might  yet  be  a  world  in  which 
little  children  and  their  gladness  might  not 
be  out  of  place.  Dim  glimpses  came  to  the 
young  mother  and  father  of  a  religion  which 
might  consecrate  not  only  death  and  sorrow, 
but  joy  and  love,  life  and  beauty,  nature  and 
art ;  not  the  unseen  only,  but  the  body,  and 
the  visible  world. 

On  Siward  also  arose  faint,  far-off  hopes  of  a 
liberation  for  the  world,  of  a  victory  for  the 
vanquished,  for  his  people,  for  all  people ;  if, 
indeed,  beyond  the  cross,  and  through  the 
cross,  could  be  reached  a  life  which  seemed 
to  be  still  a  life  of  activity  and  power  towards 
this  world. 

The  perplexities  of  Onias  were  only  revived 
and  increased  by  the  tidings.  After  all,  then, 
it  might  not  prove  such  a  complete  safeguard 
not  to  have  happened  to  be  in  Jerusalem  on 
that  fatal  day.  He  might  yet  have  to  decide 
which  cause  to  espouse.  He,  with  his  capital 
so  painfully  acquired  and  so  securely  invested, 
might  yet  have  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with 
penetrating  questions,  to  which  it  was  impos- 
sible to  give  vague  answers — might  even  yet 
be  harassed  by  applications  to  commit  him- 
self and  his  possessions  to  a  community  who 
had  shown  themselves  capable  of  a  fanaticism 
of  all  others  most  fatal  to  property  and  the 


430        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

due  preservation  of  social  distinctions — the 
fanaticism  of  a  community  of  goods. 

For,  with  Esther  at  his  side,  he  at  least 
would  find  it  impossible  to  keep  these  agitat- 
ing novelties  at  a  distance. 

To  her,  life  and  death  were  involved  in  the 
truth  of  this  fact  of  the  Resurrection  ;  the  life 
or  death,  before  all  else,  of  her  people  of 
Israel. 

This,  then,  was  the  explanation  of  that  per- 
plexed rumor  about  the  empty  sepulchre,  and 
the  Roman  soldiers  slumbering  at  their  post. 

The  King,  the  Anointed,  the  Son  of  God, 
rejected  of  Israel,  betrayed  by  His  own  people 
to  the  Romans,  mocked  in  His  dying,  actually 
risen  from  the  dead,  living  with  God  !  And 
yet,  not  a  menace  of  vengeance  on  the  rebels, 
His  betrayers  and  murderers ! 

Nothing  but  forgiveness,  reconciliation,  en- 
treaties, even,  it  was  said,  to  all  to  be  recon- 
ciled to  Him. 

The  very  worst  crime  possible  had  been 
committed.  Was  nothing  lost  by  it  ? 

Was  Israel  indeed,  renewed  by  faith  in  this 
ascended  King,  invisible,  but  working  most 
mightily  still,  still  to  be  the  centre  and  source 
of  life  to  the  nations  ? 

There  was  no  sign  of  any  change  in  the 
Gentile  world.  The  believers  were  all  Jews. 
The  city  of  David,  the  city  of  the  great  King, 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        43! 

was  still  the  city  of  the  Christ  and  His  dis- 
ciples. 

It  was  in  the  old  Temple,  on  its  ancient 
heights,  that  they  "met  and  poured  forth  their 
new  psalms. 

Reports  came,  indeed,  of  an  opposition  still 
continued  by  the  Sanhedrim,  of  some  of  the 
leaders  of  the  new  community  being  impris- 
oned and  beaten. 

But  the  persecution  seemed  neither  to  have 
checked  their  joy  nor  the  increase  of  their 
numbers. 

Was  it  only  a  beginning? 

If  so,  to  what  would  it  grow  ? 

Or  was  it  a  beginning  of  the  terrible  end  ? 
A  gathering  of  the  elect  into  the  citadel  be- 
fore the  battles  with  burning  and  fire  ;  a  little 
gleam  of  light  before  the  day  of  storms  and 
thick  darkness,  of  the  shaking  once  more  not 
of  earth  only  but  also  of  heaven,  the  day  of 
the  great  slaughter  when  the  towers  should 
fall  ?  A  gathering  of  the  righteous  into  the 
Ark  before  the  floods  came,  floods  of  fire,  to 
which  the  ancient  world-deluge  would  be  as 
nothing  ? 

For  Clcelia  Diodora,  the  tidings  of  the  Res- 
urrection from  the  sepulchre  awakened  min- 
gled feelings. 

If  she  could  have  been  absolutely  assured  in 


432         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

any  other  way  of  continued  deathless  life  in 
power  and  joy,  she  would  contentedly  have 
dispensed  with  the  thought  of  the  body  being 
raised. 

Was  this  thing,  which  had  been  to  her  the 
source  of  so  much  hindrance  and  disquiet,  not 
indeed  to  be  done  with  once  for  all  when  it  was 
laid  in  the  grave,  or  consumed  on  the  pyre  ? 

Was  this  bodily  life,  which  her  beloved  had 
lost,  indeed  thought  of  value  enough  to  be 
delivered  or  be  restored  ? 

She  had  found  a  kind  of  joy  in  despising 
and  heaping  indignities  on  this  fleshly  prison 
from  which  her  beloved  had  been  delivered. 

If  to  that  holiest  Sufferer  it  had  been  re- 
stored, there  was  then  still  some  defect  in  the 
condition  of  her  dead. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  resurrection  of  One 
threw  a  shadow  on  the  immortality  and  the 
perfection  of  the  rest. 

Moreover,  how,  and  from  what  cause,  had 
He  risen  ?  Was  it  not  from  a  cause  which 
isolated  Him  from  the  rest  of  humanity  ?  Had 
not  He,  as  the  holiest  Son  of  men,  risen  by 
virtue  of  His  superiority  to  other  men,  per- 
haps by  virtue  of  His  being  in  some  mysteri- 
ous, separate  sense  a  Son  of  God  ? 

Still,  moreover,  from  those  heavens  no  word 
seemed  to  come  for  the  Gentiles. 

Into  that  heavenly  Temple,  as  in  the  Tern- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         433 

pie  at  Jerusalem,  was  there  then  no  admission 
save  for  the  Jew  ?  To  all  ages,  for  all  but  His 
race,  nothing  but  a  dim  longing  for  His  shad- 
ow to  pass  by,  for  some  far-off  echo  of  His 
voice  ? 

A  proclamation  of  pardon  had  indeed,  it 
was  said,  been  sent  from  heaven  to  His  be- 
trayers and  murderers ;  but  only,  as  far  as 
could  be  understood,  to  Jews :  to  Jews,  who 
had  done  Him  the  utmost  dishonor  and 
wrong ;  but  not,  it  seemed,  to  any  Gentiles, 
even  if  they  would  have  desired  above  all 
things  to  pay  Him  homage. 

Indeed,  as  far  as  she  could  gather,  the  utter- 
ances of  His  followers  seemed  to  be  less  uni- 
versal than  His  own  ;  the  disciples  more  Jew- 
ish than  the  Master. 

Jews  of  every  nation  under  heaven  had 
heard,  and  believed,  and  been  accepted  ;  but 
of  those  nations  themselves,  not  one. 

What  access  was  there  for  the  Gentile  ? 

If  through  the  Jews  by  taking  the  lowliest 
position  which  could  associate  them  with  the 
nation  He  had  loved  on  earth  and  now  loved 
in  heaven,  even  the  lowliest  position  might  be 
welcome. 

But  what  sign  was  there  of  even  such  an 
expansion  of  the  old  boundaries  ? 

The  link  between  God  and  this  dying,  riven 
Son  of  man,  seemed  perfect. 
19 


434         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  link  acknowledged 
between  Him,  the  Jewish  Christ,  and  the 
Jew. 

But  where  was  the  link  between  the  Gen- 
tile and  the  Jew,  the  Jewish  Christ,  the  Son 
of  God? 

Another  defeat  was  to  precede  the  Victory 
which  opened  the  way  to  that  further  univer- 
sal Conquest. 

Another  vanquished,  and  another  Victory. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

HE  votive  altar  to  Germanicus  at 
Antioch,  where  his  funeral  pyre  had 
been  raised,  and  the  Tribunal  at 
Epidaphne,  where  he  had  died,  might 
be  visited  now  without  arousing  Imperial  sus- 
picions. 

The  ashes  of  Agrippina  might  be  removed 
from  their  dishonored  grave  on  the  lonely 
island  of  Pandataria,  and  laid  beside  the  ashes 
of  her  husband  in  the  Imperial  Mausoleum 
by  the  Tiber. 

The  Emperor  was  dead.  The  long  strain 
was  over,  with  which  for  so  many  years  he 
and  Rome  had  watched  against  each  other ; 
the  Emperor  as  a  keeper  with  his  eye  and 
hand  ceaselessly  fixed  on  the  wild  beast,  which, 
if  he  turned  aside  for  an  instant  is  ready  to 
spring  at  him  ;  "  holding  the  wolf  by  the  ears ;" 
Rome,  with  her  eyes  on  him  as  on  a  madman 
who  could  only  be  kept  from  some  frightful 

(435) 


436        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

caprice  of  malice  by  incessant  deference  and 
amusement. 

The  long  watch  was  relaxed  at  last.  The 
restraining  grasp  had  collapsed ;  and  now 
throughout  the  Empire  men  began  to  say 
aloud  the  hateful  things  they  had  long  be- 
lieved of  him,  things  of  which  it  is  almost  as 
terrible  to  think  they  should  have  been  credi- 
ble at  Rome,  as  that  they  should  have  been 
practicable  at  Capreas. 

But  until  the  very  last,  that  watch  of  mu- 
tual terror  did  not  relax  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree. 

To  the  last  the  physicians  dared  not  let  the 
Emperor  know  they  thought  him  dying.  To 
the  last  the  Emperor  dared  not  let  the  Romans 
know  that  he  was  dying.  Terribly  awake  to 
the  truth  of  facts  around  him  as  he  had  been 
throughout  his  life,  to  the  end  his  keen  eyes 
saw  as  clearly  as  ever,  and  saw  only  to  dis- 
trust. 

For  himself  he  created  no  illusions.  For 
years  he  had  felt  himself  within  the  shadow 
which  must  spread  and  darken  before  him, 
until  it  blotted  out  the  Universe.  Old  age 
and  Death  made  nothing  dim  to  him ;  they 
only  removed  any  dazzling  haze  which  might 
yet  linger  about  the  world,  and  left  everything 
distinctly  and  sharply  outlined  as  if  seen 
through  a  vacuum. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        437 

At  times  the  mere  clearness  of  the  seeing 
made  it  foreseeing.  To  some  who  were  pay- 
ing court  to  his  nephew  Caligula,  he  said : 
"  You  leave  the  setting  to  court  the  rising 
sun."  To  Caligula  himself,  "  You  will  kill 
my  grandson,  and  some  one  else  will  kill  you" 

Yet  he  persisted  in  keeping  the  courtiers  in 
suspense  and  dread  by  refusing  to  name  his 
successor,  and  by  occasionally  throwing  out 
hints  that  he  might  yet  cause  both  his  grand- 
son and  his  nephew  to  die  before  himself. 

Few  passages  in  history  have  a  more  unre- 
lieved blackness  than  those  last  days  of  Tibe- 
rius. The  story  is  too  mean  to  be  called 
tragical.  Even  the  defiance  of  death,  which 
in  an  old  Norse  warrior  might  have  had  some- 
thing heroic  in  it,  in  Tiberius  is  merely  revolt- 
ing. It  is  so  evidently  one  terror  held  in 
check  by  another;  the  dread  of  dying  van- 
quished by  the  dread  of  seeming  death-stricken 
to  the  Romans;  lest,  at  any  moment,  before 
his  hand  relaxed  in  death,  the  wolf  he  had 
cowed  so  long  should  turn  and  spring  on  him 
and  have  the  mastery. 

On  his  last  journey  towards  Rome,  seven 
miles  from  the  city,  terrified  by  a  bad  omen, 
he  turned  back  along  the  Appian  way.  Yet 
after  a  sensible  increase  of  illness  and  languor, 
at  Circeii  he  roused  himself  to  preside  once 
more  at  the  games,  and  even  to  throw  jave- 


438        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

lins  at  the  wild  beasts  in  the  Amphitheatre. 
The  Romans  had  called  him  "  morose,"  be- 
cause he  did  not  delight  enough  in  the  gladi- 
atorial combats.  Some  Romans  now  deemed 
his  strength  failing.  He  would  show  them  all 
their  double  mistake. 

At  the  villa  of  Lucullus,  however,  he  had 
to  pause,  before  once  more,  he  could  retire 
from  Campania  to  his  retreat  at  Capreae. 

He  dismissed  his  physician. 

The  physician  in  taking  leave  contrived  to 
press  an  enquiring  finger  on  his  pulse. 

The  sick  man  observed  it,  and  insisted  that 
night  on  prolonging  the  festivities  beyond  the 
usual  hour. 

Yet  at  the  very  last,  in  spite  of  all  his  pre^ 
cautions,  it  was  believed  the  terror  which  had 
haunted  all  his  life  proved  true. 

He  rallied  once  too  often  for  the  patience 
of  his  attendants.  They  suffocated  him  with 
his  pillows. 

#  #  *  * 

"  The  wolf  he  dreaded  has  vanquished  at 
last,"  old  Laon  said,  when  he  heard  it.  "  Ti- 
berius Csesar  was  right.  '  Men  are  mortal,  but 
the  State  is  eternal'  It  is  a  hopeless  struggle 
with  a  wild  beast  which  will  be  as  strong  as 
ever  for  its  deadly  spring  when  the  restraining 
human  hand  relaxes  its  grasp  for  ever.  Now 
the  worshipers  of  Tiberius  are  free  to  erect 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         439 

him  as  many  temples  as  they  please.  During 
his  life-time,  he  restrained  their  enthusiasm. 
Now  their  adoration  can  rise  freely.  If  it  has 
anything  of  the  character  of  the  worship  of 
this  new  Jewish  Sect  at  Jerusalem,  whose 
adoration  has  gathered  strength  from  death, 
now  is  the  time  for  its  expansion." 

Meantime,  at  Rome  the  citizens  were  shout- 
ing over  the  Emperor's  corpse,  "  Tiberius  to 
the  Tiber!"  and  throwing  their  whole  ener- 
gies into  the  welcome  of  the  young  Emperor, 
who  was  henceforth  to  be  their  Divine  Dis- 
penser of  bread  and  games. 

Once  more  Caius  Csesar  Caligula  walked 
in  a  funeral  procession  along  the  Appian  way. 

Eighteen  years  before,  a  child  of  seven,  he 
had  accompanied  his  mother,  the  widowed 
Agrippina,  from  Brundusium,  with  the  sacred 
urn  containing  his  father's  ashes. 

Even  on  his  childish  imagination,  the  throng- 
ing of  the  people  from  village  and  town,  the 
burning  of  incense  and  of  costly  raiment, — 
the  silence  and  the  tears  of  such  a  multitude 
must  have  stamped  an  indelible  impression. 

And  now  it  was  Germanicus  again  the  peo- 
ple were  welcoming  back,  in  the  person  of 
his  son.  Altars  greeted  him  on  all  sides,  with 
incense  and  sacrifices ;  torches  and  flowers 
and  rapturous  welcomes,  such  as,  on  another 
spring  day,  one  May,  twenty  years  ago,  had 


440        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUJSHEV. 

greeted  his  father's  triumph,  when  as  an  infant 
of  four  years  old, — the  darling  of  the  legions, 
Caligula  had  ascended  the  Capitol,  with  his 
four  boy  brothers,  in  the  Triumphal  Chariot 
by  his  father's  side. 

Father,  mother  and  brothers,  all  were  dead  ; 
it  was  believed,  all  through  the  murderous 
sway  of  Tiberius.  And  now  again  the  Italians 
in  this  procession  were  celebrating,  not  the 
obsequies  of  Tiberius,  but  the  Triumph  of  the 
race  of  their  Germanicus. 

They  welcomed  the  young  Emperor  as  the 
child  of  the  beloved  of  Rome.  They  lav- 
ished caressing  names  on  him,  calling  him 
their  "nursling,"  their  "chicken,"  their  "pup- 
pet," and  to  the  end  persisting  in  distinguish- 
ing him  (not  to  his  own  satisfaction)  by  the 
pet  name  given  to  him  by  the  legions,  among 
whom  his  father  and  mother  had  their  early 
home. 

There  is  a  pathetic  irony  in  the  fact  that  the 
prince  whom  the  nations  learned  to  execrate 
as  a  monster  of  cruelty,  continues  to  be  called 
in  the  gravest  histories  by  the  name  of  the 
baby  military  boots,  which  the  soldiers  lik- 
ed to  see  him  wear  in  the  camp  on  the 
Rhine. 

Twenty  years  had  passed  since  the  multi- 
tudes had  gathered  in  a  tumult  of  exulting 
welcome  around  Germanicus  the  Conqueror ; 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        44! 

eighteen,  since  they  had  gathered  silent  and 
weeping  around  his  ashes. 

And  now  they  met,  once  more  full  of  hope 
and  confidence  ;  once  more  trusting  they  had 
found  the  heart  they  could  rest  on,  the  hand 
that  could  lead  them. 

#  *  *  # 

And  meantime  the  heart  the  whole  world 
may  rest  on  had  been  broken  on  the  Cross ; 
the  Hand  that  can  lead  all  the  flocks  of  men 
had  been  nailed  by  man  to  the  Cross. 

He  who  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto, 
but  to  minister,  who  had  compassion  on  the 
multitudes  because  they  were  scattered  abroad 
as  sheep  having  no  Shepherd,  the  True  Shep- 
herd of  men  had  ministered  to  men,  had  given 
His  life  a  ransom  for  men, — had  risen  to  His 
Father's  throne,  and  from  it  was  slowly  gath- 
ering His  flock  from  the  East  and  the  West, 
the  North  and  the  South,  a  great  multitude 
which  no  man  can  number. 

The  Voice,  not  of  the  stranger,  had  been 
heard.  The  great  gathering  and  separating 
of  the  flock  had  begun. 

But  the  multitudes  of  men  as  yet  knew 
not  of  it,  and  wistfully  looked  to  Caius  Cassar 
Caligula,  to  be  their  Prince  and  their  Saviour. 

At  first  he  seemed  in  many  ways  to  meet 
their  expectations.    He  pardoned  royally,  and 
gave  royally,  fulfilling  the  dying  bequests  of 
19* 


442        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

the  Empress  Livia,  which  her  own  son,  Tiber- 
ius, had  neglected.  He  also  worked  royally, 
throwing  himself  with  a  passionate  energy 
during  the  summer  months  into  the  enor- 
mous labors  devolving  on  a  rule  which  had 
absorbed  so  many  powers  into  itself. 

And  then,  the  good  things  he  had  inherited 
from  a  high  and  virtuous  ancestry  seemed  to 
sink  and  be  lost  beneath  the  corruptions  of 
his  training  at  Capreas,  and  the  intoxication 
of  his  intolerable  position.  He  is  said  to  have 
abandoned  himself  with  a  phrenzy  of  license 
to  every  kind  of  pleasure, — in  eight  months  to 
have  thus  brought  himself  to  the  brink  of  the 
grave ;  and  to  have  returned  from  the  brink 
of  the  grave, — a  madman, — totally  bereft  of 
self-control ; — yet  still  invested  with  the  su- 
preme control  of  the  whole  Roman  world ; 
clever,  witty,  keen-sighted, — but  insane  ;  in- 
sane and  the  Emperor  and  god  of  Rome. 

The  worship  which  Tiberius  had  refused,  it 
became  his  moody  pleasure  to  insist  on.  His 
making  the  Temple  of  Hercules  a  mere  por- 
tico to  his  own  palace  on  the  Palatine,  was  a 
symbol  of  the  place  he  claimed.  The  Tem- 
ples of  all  the  gods  were  to  be  porticoes  to 
his.  Some  men  might  have  a  special  devo- 
tion for  one  divinity,  some  for  another.  He, 
the  true  Latin  Jove,  claimed  the  devotion  of 
all. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        443 

Such  was  the  sway  beneath  which  the  in- 
fant Church  had  to  grow,  beneath  which  she 
began  the  Conquest  of  the  World. 

As  yet  she  was  too  insignificant  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  Emperor,  or  even  of  the 
chiefs  under  him. 

Her  first  persecution  arose  from  that  an- 
cient nation  of  which  she  still  believed  herself 
a  part. 

Not  as  the  subjects  of  a  king  claiming 
universal  Empire,  but  as  an  apostate  from  the 
old  Jewish  law,  the  first  martyr  fell ;  not  as  a 
rebel  against  Rome,  but  as  a  heretic. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


4 4  \^*^$0i\HEN  they  which  were  scattered 
abroad  upon  the  persecution  that 
arose  about  Stephen  travelled  as 
far  as  Phenice  and  Cyprus  and 
Antioch,  preaching  the  word  to  none  but  to 
the  Jews  only. 

And  some  of  them  were  men  of  Cyprus  and 
Cyrene,  which,  when  they  were  come  to  An- 
tioch spake  unto  the  Greeks,  preaching  the 
Lord  Jesus. 

And  the  hand  of  the  Lord  was  with  them, 
and  a  great  number  believed,  and  turned  to 
the  Lord. 

Simple,  unemphasized  words,  yet  contain- 
ing in  them  the  record  of  the  foundation  of 
the  Church ;  of  the  transition  from  Judaism 
to  Christendom. 

At  last,  the  invasion  of  the  world  by  the 
Church  had  begun. 

To  those  who  first  entered  the  opening,  it 

(444) 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        445 

seemed  not  a  portal  into  a  new  world,  but  a 
breach  in  the  walls  of  the  old ;  not  a  gathering 
but  a  scattering. 

The  law  of  the  Kingdom,  expansion  through 
ruin,  Victory  through  the  Vanquished,  death 
through  life,  the  crown  through  the  Cross, 
growth  through  dissolution,  had  begun  to 

act. 

*  #  *  *  •&  * 

At  last  the  missing  link  came  into  the  hands 
of  Cloelia  Diodora.  Into  the  heart  so  long 
broken,  at  last  the  true  healing  balm  was 
poured. 

The  chasm  so  rudely  rent,  and  hollowed  so 
deep,  was  filled  to  the  brim,  filled  to  over- 
flowing with  the  waters  of  life,  ready  to  pour 
forth  in  blessing  on  all  around. 

Feeling  to  the  core  of  her  heart  the  death 
that  gnaws  at  the  heart  of  all  the  visible  world, 
life  and  immortality  were  brought  to  light  for 
her. 

Feeling  deeper  still  the  sin  which  is  the 
death  in  life,  the  death  in  death,  forgiveness 
came  to  her. 

Feeling  the  terrible  isolation  of  her  own  lot, 
without  father,  mother,  brother,  or  sister,  new 
relationships  were  revealed  to  her,  new,  yet 
older  than  her  life ;  love  familiar  with  every 
secret  of  her  life  and  character. 

In  heaven  she  found  the  Father. 


446        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

On  earth,  truest  and  tenderest  ties  of  kin- 
dred ;  "  brothers,  sisters,  mothers." 
.  And  all  these  through  and  in  One. 

Child  of  God  in  the  Son  of  God. 

Sister  in  the  redeemed  Family  through 
Him  who  was  not  ashamed  to  call  us  brethren. 

Redeemed  to  be  no  more  her  own.  Set 
free  to  serve. 

Words  of  infinite  joy  and  perfect  freedom. 

"Not  our  own."  Redeemed  from  the  bondage 
of  self-seeking,  from  the  isolation  of  self-will. 

Belonging  to  Him  who  had  given  His  life 
a  ransom  for  her,  had  sought  her  wandering, 
brought  her  back  to  God  ;  belonging  for  ever 
to  that  Crucified  Conqueror,,  to  that  patient 
King ;  belonging  in  Him  to  the  Father  Who 
had  loved  her  from  the  beginning. 

No  more  drifting  aimlessly  to  and  fro  on 
the  sea  of  life  !  Piloted  ! 

Glorious  contradictions  of  Christian  life  ! 

Nothing  changed;  yet  everything  changed. 

Not  a  burden  lightened ;  not  a  sorrow  re- 
moved ;  not  a  new  faculty  bestowed. 

The  crippled,  suffering  body,  crippled  and 
suffering  still.  The  bereaved  -heart  still '  be- 
reft of  the  sight  and  voice  and  touch  of  its 
dearest. 

But  the  burden  changed  from  a  shapeless, 
meaningless  load,  into  a  Cross,  into  the  like- 
ness of  what  He  had  borne  ;  into  a  yoke,  no 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        447 

more  pressing  on  the  neck  bowed  beneath  it, 
but  binding  it  to  the  appointed  work  ;  into  a 
sacrifice  accepted  willingly  in  subjection  to 
the  Father's  will ;  into  a  weapon  of  the  great 
warfare  whereby  the  Victory  of  the  Vanquish- 
ed was  to  be  for  ever  carried  on. 

Her  lost  beloved,  her  beautiful,  who  had  so 
patiently  continued  in  well-doing,  rescued  as 
she  believed  by  Him  who  went  and  preached 
unto  the  spirits  in  the  unseen  prison,  now 
reaping  glory  and  honor  and  immortality,  one 
of  the  great  Flock  of  the  Redeemed,  not  afar 
off,  one  Flock  and  one  Shepherd,  though  not 
yet  one  Fold. 

For  herself,  every  faculty  consecrated,  glori- 
fied, stamped  with  the  Image  of  the  King, 
made  current  coin  of  the  heavenly  kingdom, 
an  instrument  of  service  in  the  hand  of  love. 

Not  Transformation  ;  new  Creation ;  every 
old  thing  made  new  by  being  inspired  through 
and  through  with  the  new  life. 

Yet  not  more  a  new  birth  and  a  new  life,  or 
a  new  world  for  her,  or  to  any  in  those  earli- 
est days,  than  now  to  all,  who  receiving  the 
same  Saviour  receive  in  Him  the  revelation 
of  the  eternal  love,  the  power  to  become  sons 
of  God. 

Not  merely  a  new  impulse  was  Christianity, 
breaking  up  the  old  world.  It  was  a  new  life. 
It  is,  as  much  as  ever  it  was,  not  in  us,  nor  in 


448        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

anything  done  for  and  in  us,  but  in  Him  Who 
has  done  and  is  ever  doing  all  in  us  and  for  us  ; 
in  Him  Who  not  merely  raises  and  quickens, 
but  is  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life. 

Nor  only  were  suffering,  death,  and  the  un- 
seen world  consecrated  in  her  eyes. 

If  the  Cross  had  opened  a  path  of  light  into 
the  world  to  which  it  had  borne  the  Master, 
if  His  death  had  hallowed  dying,  His  Resur- 
rection had  opened  her  eyes  again  to  this 
visible  world,  as  His  creation,  and  His  in- 
heritance. If  His  burial  had  made  the  grave 
the  gate  of  heaven,  His  rising  again  had  made 
life  its  threshold. 

If  His  "  Thy  ^vill  not  mine,  be  done,"  had  con- 
secrated sorrow,  His  "  Peace  be  unto  you"  had 
consecrated  joy. 

Not  the  life  beyond  this  lower  world  only, 
the  life  also  of  little  children  bounding  along 
the  first  steps  of  the  long  journey,  every  stage 
and  every  station  of  life  were  sacred  through 
that  human  life  which  He  had  taken  in  its 
infancy,  borne  without  sin,  resigned  without 
sin,  and  resumed  never  to  part  with  more. 

Not  in  the  Cemetery  only,  and  the  solemn 
night,  in  the  Proseucha  synagogue,  but  in 
Hilda's  home  among  the  little  children  on  the 
sea-shores  His  feet  had  trodden,  by  the  tables 
whose  fare  He  had  blessed,  that  redemption 
had  made  her  at  home. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        449 

To  Siward  all  the  brightest  hopes  and  most 
earnest  purposes  of  his  youth  came  back,  glori- 
fied. 

He  had  found  the  Deliverer  and  the  King 
Who  set  free  by  reigning,  Who  gave  thje  true 
freedom,  not  of  the  forest,  but  of  the  King- 
dom, Who  began  the  liberation  of  men  from 
within  by  setting  them  free  from  the  bondage 
of  self. 

Christianity  did  not  quench  patriotism  in 
him,  but  exalted  it,  as  every  other  pure  hu- 
man feeling. 

The  Church,  in  the  early  days  of  Divine 
order  and  growth  did  not  take  the  color  and 
shape  out  of  the  nationalities  any  more  than 
out  of  the  character  she  embraced. 

Her  "  In  Christ  Jesus,  neither  Jew  nor 
Greek,"  no  more  destroyed  distinct  national 
ideals,  than  her  "  In  Christ  Jesus,  neither  male 
nor  female "  destroyed  the  true  manly  and 
womanly  ideal.  In  Him  nothing  that  charac- 
terized was  lost,  only  all  that  separated.  Not 
distinctions,  only  barriers,  were  broken  down. 

Never  did  Siward's  heart  beat  more  warm- 
ly for  his  people,  nor  the  hearts  of  Clcelia, 
Callias  and  Esther  for  theirs  than  when  they 
began  to  see  the  fulfillment  of  the  highest 
ideal  of  Teutonic  liberty,  Roman  duty,  Greek 
order  and  humanity,  and  Hebrew  godliness 
in  the  One  Lord  of  all,  and  to  hope  for  its  ful- 


450        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

fillment  in  the  One  Family  of  many  breth- 
ren. 

The  new  Kingdom  had  indeed  begun, 
which  makes  Antioch  a  place  well  nigh  as 
sacred  .to  the  Church  as  Jerusalem. 

If  Jerusalem  was  the  Bethlehem  of  the 
Church,  where  the  angels  rejoiced  and  sang 
"  Peace  and  good-will  to  men "  around  the 
manger  of  infant  Christianity,  Antioch  was 
its  Nazareth,  the  first  home  of  its  conscious 
youth ;  the  baptistry  where  its  distinctive 
name  was  given  to  it ;  the  first  place  where 
the  Jewish  nation  was  incorporated  into  the 
Universal  Church  as  but  one  Province  of  the 
Universal  Empire  ;  where  the  Gates  of  Morn- 
ing at  length  were  flung  open  wide  for  the 
Light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles. 

The  restless,  keen-witted  crowds  of  various 
races  which  thronged  the  long  colonnade  by 
the  Orontes  or  ranged  through  the  gardens  of 
Epidaphne  little  thought  that  in  exercising 
their  faculty  and  license  of  giving  character- 
istic names  on  that  little  band  of  believers  of 
all  nations,  they  were  rendering  a  service  to 
the  world ;  and  that  when  the  gardens  of  Epi- 
daphne had  vanished,  like  an  enchanted  gar- 
den in  a  desert,  and  the  Orontes  instead  of 
bathing  marble  temples,  and  crowded  quays, 
palaces  and  amphitheatres,  should  flow 
through  a  poor  little  Syrian  town,  that  one 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        45! 

carelessly  flung  soubriquet  should  make  the 
name  of  Antioch  familiar  in  countless  homes 
throughout  the  world. 

"  The  disciples  were  first  called  Christians 
at  Antioch." 

Do  we  think  sufficiently  what  a  commenda- 
tion on  those  first  disciples  is  involved  in  the 
fact  that  such  a  title  should  be  characteristic  ? 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

LD  LAON  still  held  aloof,  and  kept 
silence.  Onias  and  Siguna  were  the 
two  members  of  the  little  society 
whose  hearts  were  least  gladdened 
by  the  tidings  of  great  joy  which,  like  the 
music  of  the  legend,  drew  the  living  stones 
together  and  began  the  building  of  the  City 
of  God. 

For  very  different  reasons.  More  than  ever 
Siguna  longed  for  one  more  sight  of  Olave, 
that  they  might  yet  rejoice  together  over  the 
treasure  she  had  found.  The  conviction  that 
he  was  still  living,  that  they  should  yet  meet 
face  to  face  again  on  earth  had  never  been 
quenched  in  her  heart.  And  now,  in  the  light 
of  this  new  Hope,  the  old  hope  sprang  up  in 
fresh  vigor. 

Her  child  Hilda  w^is  at  home  now  in  An- 
tioch.  She  determined  to  remain  no  longer 
away  from  Rome,  but  to  spend  the  rest  of 
her  life  in  that  center  of  the  world,  watching 

(45*) 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        453 

once  again  every  company  of  captives,  or 
every  stray  band  of  wanderers  which  found 
its  way  from  the  North  to  the  City  which  to 
so  many  of  her  countrymen  still  seemed  a 
Golden  Home  of  gods. 

Onias,  on  the  other  hand,  was  inextricably 
perplexed  by  being  brought  into  contact  with 
a  question  which  absolutely  demanded  a  de- 
cision. 

Between  the  recognition  that  the  Nazarene 
was  the  Messiah,  and  the  declaration  that  He 
had  deceived  the  people,  no  vague  and  gener- 
alizing neutrality  was  possible.  It  was  not  a 
mere  matter  of  religious  opinion  about  which 
there  might  be  infinite  shades  of  thought,  from 
a  fervent  acquiescence  to  a  fanatical  denial.  It 
was  a  question  of  loyalty  or  rebellion ;  not  a 
devout  notion  about  the  other  world,  but  a 
practical  test  as  to  this ;  a  question  which  af- 
fected acquaintanceships,  daily  acts,  commer- 
cial connections  ;  not  the  mere  superfluous  in- 
come or  expenditure  of  life,  but  its  very  es- 
sence and  capital. 

For  the  Church  which  the  Antiochenes 
knew  so  well  how  to  name  characteristically 
came  among  them  as  no  mere  glad  and  loving 
child,  half  vividly  conscious  of  her  life  but  un- 
conscious of  her  mission  and  her  destiny. 

At  Antioch  above  the  childlike  robe  of 
gladness  and  singleness  of  heart  which  found 


454        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

favor  with  all  the  people,  and  which  she  must 
ever  wear  next  her  heart,  she  had  been  endued 
with  the  panoply  of  her  warfare,  and  was  no 
longer  merely  breaking  bread  from  house  to 
house,  and  praising  God  in  the  Temple,  but 
was  going  forth  conquering  and  to  conquer. 

This  warfare  of  the  Church  required  the 
material  sinews  of  war.  Whatever  theory 
may  be  adopted  as  to  the  use  of  the  gift  of 
tongues  in  saving  the  first  Christian  Mission- 
aries the  necessity  of  learning  languages,  it 
is  clear  that  no  gift  of  an  inexhaustible  purse 
was  bestowed  on  them,  that  Alexandrian  corn 
ships  would  not  remit  their  fares  for  Apostles, 
unless  in  the  keeping  of  Centurions,  that 
houses  could  not  be  hired  or  tables  spread  in 
Rome,  or  in  Corinth,  for  nothing. 

The  community  of  goods  at  Jerusalem  had 
ended,  as  Onias  had  predicted,  in  the  neces- 
sity of  contributions  for  the  poor  saints  in 
Judaea.  And  from  the  beginning  it  seemed 
as  if  Antioch  was  expected  to  be  one  of  the 
Treasuries  of  the  Church,  a  distinction  which 
must  have  involved  continual  decisions  be- 
tween God  and  Mammon  from  the  rich  mer- 
chants and  capitalists  there. 

Onias  would  have  been  quite  content  to 
wait  in  a  most  tolerant  spirit  to  see,  by  the 
success  or  failure  of  the  new  doctrine,  what 
decision  had  been  made  about  it  in  heaven. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        455 

But  the  disciples  of  the  new  doctrine  were 
quite  determined  it  should  succeed  ;  the  sub- 
jects of  the  new  Kingdom  were  determined 
to  conquer,  to  conquer  if  necessary,  like  the 
King,  by  suffering  and  by  dying ;  and  in  this 
way  the  decision  was  thrown,  not  on  heaven, 
but  on  the  consciences  of  every  man  and 
woman  who  came  within  hearing,  which  was 
far  more  perplexing. 

Moreover,  with  Esther  by  his  side,  quite 
ready  to  risk  everything,  divested  of  all  fear, 
saying  in  her  heart  like  Esther  the  Queen, 
"  If  I  perish,  I  perish"  or  with  the  Three  Chil- 
dren, "  Our  God  Whom  we  serve  is  able  to 
save  us,  but  if  not" — quite  ready  to  be  cast 
into  the  furnace,  whether  to  her  it  should 
prove  a  "  bed  of  roses,"  or  a  bed  of  anguish, 
— his  difficulty  was  increased  an  hundred  fold. 

Tenderly  she  bore  with  the  fretfulness  and 
anxious  carefulness,  which  his  perplexities 
produced  in  the  old  man.  She  knew  they 
sprang  from  a  root  of  bitterness  within  which 
must  at  any  cost  be  extracted,  or  it  would 
choke  all  the  roots  of  truth  and  goodness 
which  she  knew  had  once  been  there. 

Any  axe  would  have  been  welcome  to  her 
which  would  be  laid  at  the  root  of  that  corrupt 
tree.  And  at  last  it  came. 

The  Jews,  stronger  in  faith  and  conscience 


456         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

than  any  other  nation,  even  in  this  hour  of 
their  fatal  fall,  alone,  of  all  races  throughout 
the  Empire,  refused  to  give  Divine  honors  to 
Caligula. 

Worship  meant  more  to  them  than  to  any 
other  people  because  the  Name  of  God  meant 
more. 

Terrible  tidings  had  reached  Antioch  of  a 
popular  riot  against  the  Jews  at  Alexandria. 
Only  a  few  years  after  the  Jewish  nation  had 
suffered  her  King  to  be  crucified  at  Jerusalem, 
the  Greek  and  Coptic  population  of  Alexan- 
dria, always  envious  of  the  marvelous  com- 
mercial genius  and  success  of  the  Jewish 
colony  there,  were  roused  to  fury  by  the  ar- 
rival among  them  of  Herod  Agrippa,  with 
the  title  freshly  recognized  by  his  friend  the 
Emperor,  of  King  of  the  Jews. 

That  these  Jewish  merchants  and  brokers 
should  actually  pretend  to  have  a  king  of 
their  own  was  an  assumption  not  to  be  toler- 
ated. 

In  revengeful  mockery,  their  Coptic  and 
Greek  fellow-citizens  paraded  a  Jewish  idiot 
through  the  streets,  robed  in  ragged  gar- 
ments, with  a  reed  in  his  right  hand,  crowned 
with  a  crown  of  papyrus, — and  bent  the  knee 
to  him,  presenting  petitions  to  him,  and  hail- 
ing him  "  Lord." 

So  fiercely  was  the  cry  of  the  Jewish  priests, 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        457 

"  We  have  no  king  but  Ccesar"  taken  up  and 
hurled  back  at  them  by  the  Gentiles. 

Persecution  in  its  most  terrible  form,  a  per- 
secution of  the  populace,  followed.  The  Jews, 
who  possessed  two  out  of  tne  five  quarters  of 
the  city,  and  were  also  scattered  throughout 
the  rest  of  it,  were  driven  into  one  district. 
Within  those  narrow  bounds  multitudes  of 
them  died  of  hunger,  of  bad  air,  while  those 
who  ventured  outside,  were  relentlessly  seiz- 
ed and  torn  to  pieces,  the  Roman  Governor, 
Flaccus,  making  no  effort  to  check  the  mas- 
sacre. 

Fearful  details  of  death,  embittered  by 
every  kind  of  insult  and  torture  came  to  the 
Jewish  community  at  Antioch. 

To  the  early  Christians,  persecution,  shame 
and  death  could  have  seemed  no  signs  of 
Divine  abandonment.  That  lesson,  at  least, 
must  have  been  stamped  on  every  Christian 
heart,  while  the  Cross  was  still  to  the  mass  of 
men  the  symbol,  not  of  a  religion,  but  of  crime 
ignominiously  punished. 

But  in  the  mind  of  Onias  these  things  re- 
awakened many  fears  and  suspicions. 

What  if,  after  all,  the  unutterable,  wonder- 
working name  were  no  longer  on  their  sides. 
What  if,  after  all,  that  execution  on  Calvary 
had  been  a  crime,  (and  if  a  crime,  there  could 
be  no  doubt  of  its  enormity,)  and  the  silence 
20 


458        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  heaven  had  only  been  the  slow  gathering 
of  the  thunders,  and  this  were  the  first  burst 
of  the  avenging  lightning  ? 

Yet,  he  persuaded  himself,  there  might  be 
another  explanation.  These  Alexandrian  Jews 
were,  for  the  most  part,  Hellenists. 

They  had  translated  the  sacred  Scriptures, 
thus  obviously  casting  pearls  before  swine. 
They  had  even  endeavored,  it  was  said,  to 
extract  by  allegorizing  and  double  meanings 
a  mystical  philosophy,  half  Greek,  half  Orien- 
tal, from  the  Law  and  the  Prophets.  Might 
it  not  be  possible  that  the  wrath  which  had 
fallen  on  these  Hellenists  was  for  their  special 
Hellenistic  sins?  that  because  they  had  got 
up  the  stumbling-block  of  Grecian  philosophy 
in  their  hearts  it  was  permitted  that  the 
heathen  rabble  should  set  up  heathen  idols  in 
their  synagogues  and  houses  of  prayer  ? 

This  refuge  did  not  suffice  to  shelter  him 
long. 

The  storm  drew  nearer. 

The  decree  went  forth  from  Cassar  Caligula 
that  a  colossal  statue  of  himself  should  be 
made  for  the  purpose  of  being  enshrined  in 
the  Holy  of  Holies  of  the  Temple  at  Jerusa- 
lem. 

The  menace  around  the  Syrian  Jews,  not  to 
rebellion,  but  to  something  deeper.  The  in- 
most heart  of  that  old  Hebrew  patriotism,  al- 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         459 

ways   more  fervent   and    indestructible   than 
any  other,  was  touched. 

The  whole  nation  was  stirred  with  some- 
thing1 of  the  spirit  which  moved  the  three 
children  who  chose  the  furnace  rather  than 
idolatry. 

Clothed  in  sackcloth,  with  ashes  on  their 
heads,  they  gathered  in  troops,  from  all  quar- 
ters, around  the  Roman  Governor,  Petronius, 
at  Ptolemais. 

The  command  of  the  Emperor  was  uncon- 
ditional. Two  legions,  usually  stationed  on 
the  Euphrates  were,  if  necessary,  to  be  con- 
centrated on  Judcea  to  enforce  the  violation 
of  the  Jewish  Temple.  The  resistance  of  the 
whole  nation  was  not  to  be  suffered  to  prevent 
it 

But  Petronius  dared  to  deliberate.  Unlike 
that  former  Procurator  of  Judaea  whose  fear 
of  offending  Csesar  had  not  saved  him, 
from  banishment  ere  this  to  Gaul, — to  the 
people  he  presented  a  firm  front,  whilst  in 
private  he  held  a  council  and  debated  earnest- 
ly how  to  avert  the  collision. 

To  the  Jews,  gathered  before  him  in  mourn- 
ing garments,  an  immense  crowd  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  he  vouchsafed  no  words, 
save  those  of  the  sternest  rebuke :  "  We  must 
obey  the  Emperor,  and  they  must  obey  him." 
They  replied  that,  "  They,  must  obey  God 


460        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

rather  than  Caesar ;  that  they  would  all  die 
rather  than  suffer  the  Holy  Place  of  their  God 
to  be  thus  desecrated." 

The  worship  of  Caligula  created  no  enthu- 
siasm to  oppose  to  a  religious  and  patriotic 
fervor  genuine  as  this.  Petronius  was  hu- 
mane. He  left  his  troops  at  Ptolemais,  and 
repaired  to  Tiberias  to  see  if  this  passion  of 
resistance  was  really  universal  among  the 
people. 

*  -x-  *  -K  * 

One  evening  Esther  was  returning  from  the 
home  of  Hilda  and  Callius,  among  the  gar- 
dens, to  her  own  in  the  city.  Diodora  was 
with  her. 

The  gardens  of  Ephidaphne  were  glorious 
then  with  spring  flowers,  and  they  brought 
home  branches  of  blossom. 

It  was  the  first  day  of  the  week,  and  their 
hearts  had  been  gladdened  by  some  fresh  de- 
tails of  the  life  over  which  they  knew  Death 
had  no  dominion.  Unutterably  full  of  inter- 
est must  those  gatherings  have  been,  where 
the  sermons  were  the  text  on  which  Christen- 
dom has  lived  for  centuries,  where  the  Gos- 
pels were  written  on  the  hearts  of  those  earli- 
est Christians  before  they  had  been  embodied 
in  any  manuscript. 

They  had  met  together  also  at  that  Sacred 
Table  where  Christ  is  evermore  the  Master 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        461 

of  the  Feast ;  not  in  memorial  only  but  in  liv- 
ing Presence. 

Something  of  the  calm,  deep  joy  which  pos- 
sessed her  that  evening  must  have  shone  on 
the  pale  features  of  Esther  ;  for  as  she  passed 
along  the  great  colonnade  which  traversed 
the  city,  many,  among  the  groups  of  idlers, 
paused  in  their  conversation  and  turned  to 
look  at  her  with  a  kind  of  surprise,  blended  in 
some  with  pity  and  in  others  with  contempt. 

She  was  well  known  in  the  city.  Her  good 
works  and  alms  deeds  could  not  remain  alto- 
gether hidden,  extending  as  they  did  far  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  Synagogue  ;  and  her 
husband  had  the  perilous  reputation  of  being 
one  of  the  wealthiest  Jewish  brokers  in  the 
place.  For  the  most  part  those  glances  were 
far  from  friendly. 

A  bitter  envy  was  always  ready  to  overflow 
against  a  race  which  was  so  successful  and  so 
exclusive,  so  rich  and  so  "morose,"  so  hard  to 
borrow  from,  and  yet  so  necessary  to  those 
who  wanted  to  borrow. 

"  Cloelia,  what  has  happened?"  Esther  whis- 
pered at  length,  laying  a  trembling  hand  on 
the  arm  of  the  Roman  maiden.  "  See  how  an- 
grily they  gaze  at  us." 

The  crippled  Diodora  was  too  much  accus- 
tomed to  be  a  butt  of  the  wit  of  Antioch  to 
have  noticed  any  thing  immoral. 


462         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  I  never  let  myself  see  that  mocking  stare," 
she  said.  And  very  quietly  she  added,  "  I 
used  to  feel  it  so  bitterly.  But  not  now.  I 
think  of  the  mocking  stare  of  the  multitude 
He  bore  for  us." 

But  soon  insolent  words  came  in  explana- 
tion of  the  contemptuous  looks. 

"  A  strange  occasion  for  a  Jewish  matron 
to  choose  for  parading  the  streets  with  gar- 
lands and  smiles!" 

"  Ah !  probably  she  is  of  that  new  sect  of 
theirs,  to  which  the  nation  is  nothing,  their 
crucified  Christ  every  thing  ! 

"  Still,  Caius  Caesar  enshrined  in  their  Tem- 
ple might  try  the  patience  even  of  a  Chris- 
tian." 

Esther  stopped,  and  fearlessly  turning  to 
the  man  who  had  spoken  these  words,  said, 
"  What  news  has  arrived  ?  Of  what  ill-tidings 
do  you  speak !" 

"  Only  of  the  decree  of  Cassar  Caligula 
commanding  an  image  of  himself  to  be  en- 
shrined in  the  Temple  of  the  Jews  at  Jerusa- 
lem, and  the  report  that  the  whole  nation  are 
thronging  round  Petronius  the  governor,  de- 
claring they  will  die  rather  than  suffer  it." 

Esther  said  no  more.  With  the  certainty 
of  peril  to  her  people,  her  courage  had  re- 
turned. 

She   entered   the   house   pale,  indeed,  but 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         463 

with  no  sign  of  agitation  in  voice  or  bear- 
ing. 

Onias  was  there  before  her.  She  found  him 
in  the  little  inner  chamber  opening  on  the 
court,  crouching  on  the  ground  like  a  fright- 
ened animal,  his  hands  clasped  on  his  knees 
and  his  face  buried  between  them. 

She  knelt  beside  him,  bowing  her  head  as 
low  as  his. 

"  Onias,  my  husband !"  she  said,  "  I  know 
all.  We  will  go  together  and  entreat  for 
the  children  of  our  people.  We  will  go  to- 
morrow." 

"  You  will  go?"  he  exclaimed. 

He  had  half  feared,  half  hoped  she  would 
scarcely  have  heeded  the  tidings,  no  longer 
identifying  herself  with  the  nation  which  had 
committed  what  she  regarded  as  an  unequal- 
led crime,  and  which  now  seemed  falling  un- 
der such  unequalled  vengeance. 

"  We  will  go !"  she  replied,  meeting  his 
wavering  eyes  until  they  began  to  kindle  with 
something  of  the  light  in  hers.  "  This  is  work 
for  women,  for  children,  for  every  creature  of 
our  name  and  blood.  Women  can  at  least 
entreat,  and  babes  can  kneel ;  and  if  needful, 
women  as  well  as  men  can  die." 

"Esther!"  he  said,  "I  had  thought,  you 
would  look  on  this  as  inevitable,  as  the  just 
consequence  of  that  Death  !" 


464        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

"  That  Death  was  voluntary,  to  the  last  dy- 
ing cry,"  she  said.  "  He  offered  Himself  up 
without  spot  to  God  for  us.  He  died  rather 
than  deny  Himself  to  be  what  He  is.  If  it  is 
to  be,  we  also  will  let  our  death  be  voluntary. 
We  will  die  rather  than  deny  our  God." 

"  But  to  you,  Gentiles,  Greeks,  barbarians 
are  brothers,"  he  said.  "  Is  your  heart  indeed 
Jewish  still  ?  I  always  feared  you  might  die 
for  being  a  Christian.  Would  you  also  die 
for  being  a  Jewess?" 

"  I  would  die  if  God  called  me,  and  strength- 
ened me,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  rather 
than  do  any  thing  or  suffer  any  thing  to  be 
done  which  He  has  forbidden.  Was  not  the 
Christ,  our  Lord,  sent  first  to  the  lost  sheep 
of  the  house  of  Israel  ?  Did  He  not  drive  the 
traffickers  out  of  the  Temple  ?  And  shall  we, 
if  we  can  hinder  it,  suffer  a  base  idol  to  be  set 
up  in  its  inmost  sanctuary  ?" 

He  rose  from  the  ground,  and,  raising  her, 
took  her  hands  and  looked  with  intense  ear- 
nestness into  her  face. 

"  But  what  if  this  is  the  vengeance  for  the 
Cross?"  he  said  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"  If  it  be,"  she  said  calmly,  "  all  the  more 
would  I  go,  and  pray  for  my  people,  and  suf- 
fer with  them.  To  me,"  she  added,  "no  blow 
from  His  hand  would  be  unwelcome.  And 
who  knows  but  they  might  even  yet  repent. 


'VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        465 

I  know  well  that  where  He  menaces,  it  is  but 
a  stronger  form  of  entreaty  to  drive  those 
who  will  not  be  won,  home  to  Himself." 

The  old  man  bowed  his  head  on  his  breast. 

"  I  at  least,"  he  murmured,  "  have  deserved 
any  stroke  from  His  hand  ;"  and,  after  a  pause, 
"  We  will  go,"  he  said.  And  in  saying  those 
words,  he  met  her  eyes  with  a  look,  straight 
and  untroubled,  such  as  she  had  not  seen  on 
his  face  for  many  a  year. 

He  did  not  allude  to  the  great  sacrifices  he 
might  have  to  make.  He  had  risen,  for  the 
time,  to  another  level,  from  which  they  looked 
not  great,  but  nothing. 

Hastily  they  made  arrangements  for  the 
journey.  The  next  morning  Esther  was  some- 
what troubled  to  see  him  enter  the  treasure- 
chamber  from  which  he  so  often  came  with  a 
countenance  careworn  and  perplexed. 

But  this  time,  after. some  minutes,  he  came 
out  of  the  door  again,  with  a  look  of  quiet 
determination  far  more  reassuring  to  her  than 
the  most  triumphant  smile. 

"  I  have  only  been  labelling  the  pledged 
property  to  be  restored  to  the  owners,"  he 
said,  "  if  we  do  not  come  back  again.  Per- 
haps some  of  it,  if  we  do." 

Once  more  the  old  love  sprang  up  from  be- 
neath the  load  of  care  and  covetousness  which 
had  so  long  crushed  it  down.  And  it  was 
20* 


466        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

with  a  heart  lightened  of  its  heaviest  care  that 
Esther  accomplished  that  solemn  journey  to 
Tiberias. 

They  said  little  by  the  way. 

It  was  a  strange  sight  that  met  their  eyes 
as  they  approached  the  edge  of  the  deep  ba- 
sin of  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 

It  was  the  sowing  season.  But  all  along 
the  slopes  and  levels  of  those  fertile  shores 
not  a  laborer  was  to  be  seen.  They  urged 
their  mules  through  a  silent  land ;  and  when 
they  came  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  above  Tibe- 
rias,— below,  bordering  the  shore,  and  girding 
the  city  round  was  gathered  a  dense  dark 
mass  of  human  beings. 

"  As  sheep  having  no  shepherd  !"  Esther  ex- 
claimed in  a  broken  voice.  "  They  prayed 
the  Good  Shepherd  to  depart  out  of  their 
coasts.  And  He  has  gone." 

She  would  not  ride  further.  Onias  also  dis- 
mounted, and  covering  themselves  with  sack- 
cloth, they  walked  slowly  down  the  steep  to 
join  the  suppliant  crowd  of  their  compa- 
triots. 

Different  indeed  was  this  dark-robed,  silent 
crowd  from  the  loitering,  expectant  throng 
which  a  few  years  before  had  gathered  on 
those  shores. 

No  rich  tints  or  picturesque  forms  of  Ori- 
ental costume  varied  the  sombre  uniformity. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        467 

All  were  clothed  in  sackcloth.  Many  had 
ashes  strewn  on  their  heads. 

Men  of  all  ages  and  ranks,  women  and  little 
children,  all  subdued  into  one  voiceless  com- 
pany of  suppliants. 

There  was  no  wailing  or  clamor.  The  only 
eloquence  they  attempted  was  that  of  silence. 

They  would  not  return  to  their  homes,  or 
their  fields ;  they  would  not  till  nor  sow  the 
ground,  nor  seek  the  shelter  of  a  roof,  until 
they  were  assured  that  the  Temple  of  their 
God  should  not  be  desecrated. 

For  many  days  this  voiceless-  petition  had 
been  presented  before  the  governor,  remain- 
ing perplexed  and  uncertain  within  the  walls 
of  the  City  of 'Tiberias. 

When  Esther  and  Onias  reached  this  mul- 
titude of  their  people,  many  faces  already 
looked  worn  with  watching. 

Silently  they  took  their  places  in  the  crowd. 

Day  after  day  the  thousands  assembled 
there  remained,  their  numbers  slowly  increas- 
ing, and  none  departing. 

It  was  an  unusually  sultry  season,  even  for 
that  sultry  hollow  of  the  lake,  with  its  tropical 
heat  and  fertility. 

All  day  they  were  exposed  to  the  sun, 
shining  in  his  strength,  from  the  first  moment 
of  his  breaking  forth  like  a  giant  from  the 
screen  of  the  eastern  hills,  to  the  last,  when 


468         VICTORY  OF  TEE  VANQUISHED. 

he  disappeared  behind  the  green  Mount  of  the 
Beatitudes. 

The  night  scarcely  cooled  the  air,  or  the 
hot  earth,  ere  the  dawn  began  to  burn  again 
across  the  lake. 

The  only  changes  in  that  weary  anxious 
watching  were  when  the  rulers  came  back 
with  reports  of  failure,  from  the  presence  of 
Petronius. 

He  had,  he  said,  but  to  obey.  The  statue 
was  already  in  the  hands  of  Sidonian  carvers, 
at  Ptolemais.  Day  by  day,  whilst  they  were 
waiting  there,  the  shapeless  marble  was 
growing  into  the  image  of  Csesar.  Would 
they  fight  against  Cassar  ? 

The  rulers  of  the  Jews  replied,  "  they  had 
no  thought  of  fighting ;  but  they  would  all 
be  massacred  rather  than  break  their  law." 

And  prostrate  on  the  ground,  with  expres- 
sive Oriental  gesture,  they  offered  their  necks 
to  the  sword.  The  Roman  soldiers  might 
slay  them,  unresisting,  one  by  one.  The 
power  of  Rome  was  invincible.  But  no 
power  on  earth  could  compel  them  to  live, 
and  see  the  Temple  of  their  God,  made  the 
temple  of  an  idol. 

For  forty  days  this  passive  pleading  contin- 
ued. 

Strange  and  awful  days  and  nights  to  Es- 
ther. Did  none  beside  herself,  in  that  suppli- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        469 

ant  crowd,  see  any  strange  significance  in  all 
this, — any  strange  contrast  ? 

Were  there  none  there  who  had  felt  the 
healing  touches,  heard  the  matchless  teach- 
ing? Were  there  none  who  had  listened  to 
the  Beatitudes  ?  Were  there  none  who  had 
listened  to  the  Woes  ?  "  Woe  unto  thee  Chora- 
zin !  Woe  unto  thee  Bethsaida  /"  To  her  the 
whole  silence  seemed  full  of  that  Woe,  so  en- 
treating, so  reluctant,  so  sure  ! 

Were  there  none  who  thought  of  that  long 
night  of  silence,  of  the  holy  Sufferer  buffeted 
to  and  fro  among  Roman  soldiers,  and  Jewish 
priests,  and  brought  at  last  before  another 
Roman  Governor,  less  compassionate  and  just 
than  this  Petronius,  with  no  voice  among  the 
thousands  he  had  helped  and  healed  raised  to 
plead  for  him  ? 

To  Esther  it  seemed  as  if  her  whole  nation 
stood  now,  silent  and  sentenced,  in  the  place 
to  which  they  had  betrayed  their  King. 

Were  there  none  there  who  thought  how 
their  Holy  City  had  been  desecrated  with  a 
desecration  beside  which  even  this  threatened 
pollution  of  the  Sanctuary  was  but  as  a  mo- 
mentary ceremonial  defilement  of  its  outer- 
most Court? 

Were  there  none  who  knew  how  the  Son, 
the  Beloved  of  God  had  been  rejected,  the 
Sanctuary  of  His  sacred  life  violated  and 


470        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

desecrated,  the  very  express  Image  of  the 
Father  dishonored  ? 

She  prostrated  herself  on  the  ground,  won- 
dered and  wept. 

Yet  not  altogether  bitter  or  hopeless  tears. 

Could  it  be  that  her  people  were  awaking 
at  last,  and  not  even  yet,  too  late  ? 

The  long  suffering  they  had  wearied  was  so 
unconquerable ;  the  love  they  had  despised 
so  infinite.  And  always,  she  thought,  in  that 
day  of  inhuman  ingratitude  as  in  this  day  of 
heroic  patriotism, — then  as  now,  now  as  then, 
these  multitudes,  with  their  ignorance,  their 
blind  anger,  and  their  blind  trust,  "  know  so 
little  what  they  do." 

" Father !  forgive  tliem" 

As  she  wept  and  prayed,  the  echo  of  the 
"  Woe !  "  seemed  to  fall  fainter,  until  the  si- 
lence grew  full  of  those  later  words  of  un- 
quenchable pity. 

"  Father,  forgive  them !  For  they  know  not 
what  they  do"  * 

At  last  the  relief  came. 

Petronius  assembled  the  people  to  hear  his 
decision. 

He  was  risking  everything  for  himself,  by 
delaying  the  execution  of  the  edict.  He  knew 
it  and  they  knew  it.  But  he  was  determined 
to  take  the  risk,  rather  than  lay  waste  the 
Province  he  had  been  sent  to  govern. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        47! 

He  promised  to  do  his  utmost  to  obtain  the 
repeal  of  the  decree.  Meantime  the  Sidonian 
carvers  should  be  stopped  in  their  work.  The 
statue  should  be  left  unfinished. 

And  before  the  answer  could  arrive  from 
Rome,  the  Emperor  himself  had  fallen  pierced 
with  many  wounds  from  the  hands  of  assas- 
sins ;  the  body  from  which  was  modelled  the 
image  which  was  to  have  desecrated  the 
Jewish  Temple  was  cast  into  a  dishonored 
grave. 

As  Petronius  ended  his  merciful  speech  to 
the  Jewish  suppliants  at  Tiberias,  the  shadow 
of  clouds  not  felt  for  weeks  began  to  soften 
the  sultry  pitiless  glare.  And  before  the  day 
closed,  on  all  the  burnt-up  slopes  and  parched 
plains  came  down  refreshing  showers  of  rain. 

Quietly,  with  glad  hearts,  the  crowds  dis- 
persed to  vineyard,  orchard  and  corn-field. 

Once  more,  they  thought,  the  God  of  their 
fathers  had  appeared  for  them.  Once  more, 
as  much  his  direct  gift,  as  if  smitten  from  the 
rock,  He  sent  them  the  living  waters. 

"  Once  more,"  Esther  thought,  "  He  had 
caused  His  sun  to  shine  on  the  evil  and  the 
good,  and  sent  His  rain  on  the  just  and  the 
unjust." 

With  some  anxiety  as  to  the  effect  of  this 


472         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

deliverance  on  Onias,  she  recommenced  the 
homeward  journey. 

Would  he  regard  this  rescue  as- but  another 
proof  of  prosperity  being  the  "  sign  from 
heaven,"  and  be  led,  once  more,  to  deny  the 
Messiahship  of  Him  whose  life  had  ended,  to 
the  eyes  of  His  people,  in  defeat  and  death  ? 

She  need  not  have  feared. 

The  cutting  off  of  the  right  hand  which  it 
had  been  to  him  to  abandon  all  his  treasures, 
and  place  himself  as  a  beggar  among  the  sup- 
pliant crowds  of  his  people,  had  raised  him 
to  an  altogether  higher  level.  The  one  single- 
hearted  act  had  cleared  the  dim  and  troubled 
eyes..  And  he  saw  things  as  they  are. 

"  Once  more  he  has  been  patient  and  long- 
suffering  with  us,"  she  said  softly  as  they 
mounted  the  slopes  from  the  lake. 

"  Patient  and  long-suffering  indeed  with  me, 
my  beloved,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  found  Him 
at  last.  All  through  those  weary  days  and 
nights  I  heard  a  voice,  saying,  in  the  words 
you  told  me  He  spoke  once  to  one  who  for- 
sook him  because  he  had  great  possessions," 
'  Come,  leave  all,  and  follow  me.'  All  these 
silent  days  and  nights  I  have  been  seeking 
Him.  And  now  at  last  I  have  found  Him. 
I  have  found  the  Christ.  And  I  find,  that  to 
leave  all  for  Him  is  to  leave  nothing  but  care 
and  chains  and  a  prison-house." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


NCE  more  on  the  way  to  Rome,  to 
the  Center  of  the  world,  the  source 
of  law  and  government,  of  wonder- 
ful order  and  of  disorders,  crimes 
and  corruptions  unutterable,  with  the  sacred 
wood,  the  Tree  of  Life  in  their  keeping  to 
cast  into  the  bitter  fountains. 

Not  outwardly  did  the  early  Christians  bear 
the  symbol  of  the  Cross,  not  even  on  their 
sepulchres.  The  power  of  it  was'  on  their 
hearts.  The  symbol  was  visibly  before  them 
too  often,  and  too  complete ;  the  symbol  not 
of  victory,  but  of  the  utmost  humiliation  and 
defeat  a  human  life  could  reach,  such  as  the 
guillotine  or  the  gallows  would  but  feebly 
represent  to  us. 

Not  in  bronze  and  marble  and  the  pathos 
of  religious  sculpture  ;  in  its  own  unmitigated 
horror  and  ignominy,  with  the  writhing  of 
tortured  human  limbs,  it  met  the  eyes  of  the 

(473)    ' 


474        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

little   Christian    company   as    they   returned 
from  Antioch  to  Rome. 

Siward  and  his  mother  were  once  more 
slowly  passing  along  the  Appian  way,  one 
evening  in  spring,  when  once  more  on  the 
brow  of  an  opposite  hill  as  before,  on  their 
journey  eastward  with  Germanicus,  the  ter- 
rible thing  rose  black  before  them  against  the 
golden  sky. 

Once  more  their  eyes  met,  and  each  became 
conscious  that  the  other  had  seen  it. 

They  drew  closer,  and  spoke  of  that  evening 
long  ago. 

"It  was  before  me  then,"  Siward  said,  "as 
the  most  terrible  possibility  of  slavery." 

"  It  is  before  our  hearts  always  now,"  Si- 
guna  said,  "as  the  measure  of  His  love  for 
us." 

"  And  as  the  measure  of  the  sacrifice  which 
may  be  involved  in  ours  for  Him,"  he  replied. 

He  meant  quite  literally ;  but  he  spoke  the 
words  in  a  tone  which  made  them  sound  like 
a  song  of  triumph. 

The  world  as  far  as  it  concerned  itself  with 
them  at  all,  knew  well  that  their  Master  had 
been  crucified,  and  had  been  buried.  His 
cross  had  been  visible  enough.  From  morn- 
ing to  night  it  had-  stood  close  to  one  of  the 
stateliest  cities  of  the  Empire,  the  Jerusalem 
of  Herod  the  Great. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        475 

The  Gospel  the  early  disciples  had  to  tell 
was  that  His  sepulchre  was  empty,  that  He 
had  risen. 

Their  message  was  the  Resurrection. 

Their  life  was  the  Cross.  A  continual  pa-" 
tience  with  all,  a  perpetual  sacrifice  of  all  for 
His  sake,  a  perpetual  victory  through  appa- 
rent defeat,  a  triumphing  through  suffering. 
In  the  martyr  ages  while  the  cup  of  her  Lord 
was  continually  in  her  hand,  the  raiment  of 
the  Church  was  the  white  and  glistening  robe 
of  joy.  The  world  provided  her  with  the 
Cross,  and  the  Crucified  with  the  crown. 

When  the  world  provides  the  crowns,  the 
Master  can  give  the  Cross. 

For  in  this  world  the  Cross  may  not  be  ab- 
sent, though  the  crowning  very  well  may,  and 
the  true  crowning  must,  through  all  the  ages. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

NCE  more  in  the  Pomoerium,  in  the 
desert  in  the  heart  of  the  City,  in 
the  sacred  waste. 

Once  more  Clcelia  Diodora  knelt 
on  the  ground  at  night  by  the  Tomb  of  the 
Vestal. 

The  memories  of  the  lonely  days  and  nights 
spent  there,  were  present  with  her  again  ;  the 
memory  of  the  restless  searching  hither  and 
thither  for  some  voice  to  tell  her  of  her  dead, 
for  some  gate  into  that  dark  Under-world. 
What  had  changed  to  her  since  then  ? 
She  remembered  now  with  a  kind  of  tri- 
umph in  the  midst  of  her  anguish  she  had 
looked  on  palace  and  temple,  and  on  all  the 
pomp  of  life  in  the  city,  and  had  thought — 

"  Not  Tiberius  Caesar,  but  Death  is  the  Uni- 
versal Lord.     That  which  has  triumphed  over 
my  Beloved,  will  lay  low  and  triumph  over 
all,   beautiful  women,  strong   men,   soldiers, 
(476) 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        477 

senators,  Emperor.  Whatever  seems,  Death 
alone  reigns. 

What  had  changed  since  then,  that  every- 
thing was  changed  to  her? 

To  the  senses,  nothing.  The  sacred  urn  on 
that  tomb  still  actually  held  what  was  dear- 
est to  her  of  all  visible  things  on  earth.  And 
it  held  only  ashes. 

What  then  had  changed?  To  herself,  to 
her  spirit,  everything. 

Death,  to  the  senses,  still  conquered  all. 
But  Life,  she  knew,  had  conquered  Death. 

Not  Caesar,  not  any  dark  power  of  the  Un- 
der-world, not  Death,  was  Universal  Lord, — 
but  Christ,  Christ  seen  in  the  quiet  morning 
by  the  lake,  in  the  quiet  evening  by  the  table, 
blessing  the  bread. 

To  Him  "all  power  was  given  in  heaven 
and  earth."  Lord  everywhere,  and  forever. 
It  was  impossible  to  be  exiled  from  His  do- 
minion. Death  only  brought  nearer  Him  ;  one 
stage  nearer,  from  the  Provinces  to  the  Mother 
City,  from  the  School  to  the  Father's  House. 

That  was  all  she  had  learned  of  the  Unseen 
World.  But  it  was  enough. 

He  ivas  there ;  reigning  there.  There  was 
no  need  of  any  other  light  to  make  that  world 
bright,  but  the  light  awful,  mysterious,  sweet, 
familiar,  which  His  Presence,  Divine  and  hu- 
man must  make. 


478        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

The  words  of  the  Apostle  had  not  yet  been 
written  to  the  Church  at  Rome.  \ 

"  Glory  and  honor  and  peace  to  every  man 
that  worketh  good,  to  the  Jew  first,  and  also 
to  the  Gentile ;  for  there  is  no  respect  of  per- 
sons with  God.  For  when  the  Gentiles  which 
have  not  the  law  do  by  nature  the  things 
contained  in  the  law,  these  having  not  the 
law  are  a  law  unto  themselves,  which  show 
the  works  of  the  law  written  in  their  hearts, 
their  conscience  also  bearing  witness." 

But  no  perplexity  had  disturbed  her  heart 
with  regard  to  her  lost  Beloved.  Christ  the 
Lord  had  not  begun  to  live  at  Bethlehem,  nor 
to  reign  at  Jerusalem.  He  had  been  living 
and  reigning  with  the  Father,  from  the  begin- 
ning. He  was  living  and  reigning  now,  over 
all  things,  visible  and  invisible.  That  was 
enough. 

All  the  heart's  yearnings  for  justice  and  for 
pity,  were  satisfied  absolutely  in  the  certainty 
that  he  was  satisfied,  and  that  He  was  Lord. 

All  barriers  were  broken  down  in  Him,  the 
atoning  sacrifice,  the  mediating  Lord  ;  all  bar- 
riers between  man  and  man ;  between  man 
and  God  ;  between  earth  and  heaven. 

No  barriers  of  race  could  destroy  the  unity 
of  the  humanity  He  had  deigned  to  take,  not 
as  a  mutable  vesture,  but  as  another  nature. 
No  barriers  of  past  sin  would  divide  the  most 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         479 

sinful  who  believed  in  Him  from  God  and 
from  purity.  No  impenetrable  brazen  gates 
of  Hades,  even,  could  separate  really  the  dead 
and  the  living,  since  the  Seen  and  the  Unseen 
were  alike  His  kingdom. 

Where  any  wall  of  partition  had  stood,  He 
stood"  and  said, 

"  /  am  the  door" 

Where  the  gates  of  exclusion  stood,  He 
stands,  with  the  compassionate  countenance 
to  welcome,  and  the  irresistible  pierced  hands, 
to  bless,  and  to  invite. 

She  knelt  in  the  solitude,  feeling  something 
of  the  expansion  and  the  comprehension,  the 
light  and  the  freedom  of  His  presence,  and 
we'pt  soft  healing  tears  such  as  she  had  never 
wept  there  before.  Across  the  waves,  through 
the  storm  the  words  had  come  to  her 

"  It  is  I.     Be  not  afraid." 

No  more.  But  absolutely  enough.  For  to 
her,  His  "  It  is  I,"  meant  the  assurance  in  His 
voice  Who  saw,  and  commanded,  all  ages  and 
all  worlds,  that  all  is  well. 

As  she  rose  from  the  ground,  a  little  way 
off,  she  perceived  old  Laon,  leaning  against  a 
black  olive-trunk. 

"  You  came  to  take  care  of  me,"  she  said. 
"  You  knew  where  to  find  me,  best  and  oldest 
friend." 


480        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

"  Scarcely  best  now,"  he  said,  in  rather  a 
thick  voice ;  "  you  have  entered  on  a  world 
of  brothers  and  sisters,  now." 

"  Laon,"  she  said,  "  are  not  you — even  you, 
also  one  of  these  ?" 

He  did  not  answer  for  some  moments. 
Then  he  said, 

"  You  have  heard  no  voice,  seen  no  vision. 
Yet  the  world  is  changed  to  you.  And  this  is 
changed  to  you,  which  was  all  in  the  world 
you  cared  for.  Is  it  indeed  true  that  you  be- 
lieve One  has  risen  from  the  dead,  has  been 
where  she  whom  you  love  is,  has  come  back 
and  has  told  you  nothing  whatever  about  that 
unknown  world  save  that  He  is  there,  and  that 
nevertheless  you  are  satisfied  ?" 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said.  "  I  cannot  find  that 
He  has  told  anything  but  that  He  is  there, 
and  that  He  will  welcome  each  of  us  thither, 
and  that  we  shall  be  with  Him  there,  at  once, 
without  interval.  And  with  this  we  are  satis- 
fied." 

"  If  what  you  believe  is  true,"  Laon  replied, 
"  think  what  He  might  have  told  you.  For 
He  must  be  as  familiar  with  that  world  as 
with  this.  He  must  surely  know  how  human 
hearts  long  for  tidings  of  it.  He  might,  for 
instance,  have  told  you  where  they  live. 
Would  it  not  have  been  something  to  know 
that  if  you  turn  your  eyes  to  some  one  spot  in 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        481 

the  heavens,  you  are  looking  towards  the  bor- 
ders of  their  dwelling?" 

"  It  seems  to  us  that  it  would  have  been 
worth  something,"  she  said. 

"  Would  it  not  have  been  worth  something," 
he  continued,  "  to  know  fully  what  they  know 
of  us,  to  have  one  positive  declaration  that 
they  are  with  us,  that  they  are  watching  over 
us,  rejoicing  when  we  do  right,  caring  for 
us?" 

"  I  believe  they  do,"  she  said.  "  Are  they 
not  with  Him  Who  gave  us  to  each  other, 
and  Who  cares  for  us  more  than  any." 

"  You  trust,  you  think,  you  infer,"  Laon 
replied.  "  But,  if  you  are  right,  He  knew. 
One  positive  word  from  His  lips  would  have 
been  wor-th  much  to  you." 

"It  would,"  she  said.  "But  He  has  not 
given  it,  and  He  knew  best.  Perhaps,"  she 
added,  "  He  saw  it  would  make  us  stronger 
and  happier  in  the  end  to  rest,  not  on  the 
things  He  could  have  told  us,  but  on  His 
love  ;  better  for  us  to  all  eternity  to  have 
known  what  it  is  in  the  face  of  darkness,  and 
anguish,  and  silence,  even  His  silence,  to 
trust  Himself." 

"  Would  it  not  have  been  something,"  Laon 

resumed,  "  to  know  how  they  live  ?  what  their 

employments  are,  how  they  are  influenced  by 

this  visible  world,  or  can  influence  it? — this 

21 


482         VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

visible  world  which  is  still  so  much  to  us ! — 
If  that  pure  Being  you  love  had  been  exiled 
to  Pandataria,  would  you  not  have  spent  all 
your  living  to  get  tidings  of  her,  just  to  know 
in  what  kind  of  a  dwelling  she  abode,  what 
she  did  at  any  hour  of  any  day  ?  That  world 
must  have  been  as  familiar  to  Him  you  trust, 
if  your  trust  is  well  placed,  as  your  father's 
home  on  the  Ccelian  to  you  and  your  sister  ? 
Has  He  told  you  nothing  ?" 

"  He  called  it  Paradise  ;  the  garden  of  spi- 
rits; the  garden  of  all  the  worlds,"  she  said. 
"  That  is  something,  but  what  the  keeping 
and  tilling  of  that  garden  mean,  He  has  not 
said.  He  called  it  His  Father's  House  and 
that  is  more.  It  must  mean  a  Temple  and  a 
Home.  But  what  the  services  of  that  Temple 
are,  what  that  Home  life  is,  He  has  not  told. 
But  we  know  what  He  delighted  to  do  here, 
on  earth,"  she  added,  "  and  we  know  they  are 
with  Him,  that  they  must  delight  to  do  what 
He  delighted  in,  and  must  be  able  to  do  it, 
being  strong,  as  He  is  now,  not  in  weakness 
of  flesh  as  He  was,  and  we  are.  Indeed, 
Laon,"  she  concluded,  "  we  are  content.  And 
we  have  reason.  Perhaps  He  told  us  all  it  is 
good  for  us  to  know.  Perhaps  He  told  us  all 
it  is  possible  for  us  to  know.  Which  of  the 
two  we  know  not.  But  one  of  the  two  it  must 
be,  knowing  our  hearts  as  He  knows  them, 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        483 

and  being  what  He  is.  Meantime  we  are 
waiting  for  the  opening  of  the  door.  Won- 
derful, happy  secrets  are  behind  for  us  to 
learn,  we  know ;  for  He  is  love  ;  and  not  one 
dark  secret,  for  in  Him  is  no  darkness  at  all ; 
and  while  we  wait,  we  have  always  one  way 
of  learning  more  and  more  of  them,  and  that 
is  by  learning  more  and  more  of  Him.  Every 
fresh  detail  we  gather  concerning  Him  of  His 
life  here,  His  words,  His  dying,  His  life  now, 
gives  us  a  glimpse  into  their  lives  whose  joy 
is  in  Him.  Every  fresh  revelation  of  His  love 
and  truth  is  a  fresh  revelation  of  their  bliss. 
Every  prayer  to  Him  draws  us  near  them. 
Every  act  of  service  to  Him  associates  us 
with  them.  For  they  are  with  Him  beyond 
the  night ;  and  He  is  with  us  day  and  night. 
And  indeed  we  are  satisfied.  Have  we  not 
reason  ?" 

"  I  think  you  have  reason,  Clcelia  Diodora, 
my  God-given,"  he  said  after  a  pause.  "  Many 
have  been  persuaded,  you  say,  by  His  words. 
I  am  convinced  by  His  silence." 


^CHAPTER  XLL 


NITED  in  one  Family,  the  little  com- 
pany still  retained  their  individual 
characters  and  aims,  or  rather  their 
various  ways  of  carrying  out  the 
one  great  inspiring  purpose  which  is  the  in- 
spiration of  every  Christian  life. 

All  barriers  were  broken  down ;  but  n<i 
characteristics. 

To  Clcelia  Diodora  the  words  of  the  Vestal 
that  morning  in  the  old  garden  on  the  Ccelian 
often  came  back,  like  a  hymn. 

"  Rejoice  with  me,"  she  had  said.  "  To- 
day I  began  the  sacred  priesthood,  the  charge 
of  the  sacred  fire.  To-day  my  life  flows  forth 
from  the  shadow  of  the  rock-arches  to  serve 
our  Rome." 

The  whole  Church  seemed  to  Diodora  the 
fulfilment  of  that  air  type  ;  a  Vestal  Priestess, 
clothed  in  the  pure  white  stole,  every  morn- 
ing drawing  the  living  water  from  the  Foun- 
(484) 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        485 

tain  for  the  Shrine  ;  day  and  night  keeping 
the  Sacred  Fire  burning,  not  only  for  Rome, 
but  for  the  world. 

The  whole  redeemed  Church  on  earth  and 
in  heaven,  and  every  member  of  it. 

Even  to  her  her  portion  of  the  sacred 
charge  was  given.  The  charge  of  Laon's 
little  home,  the  brightening  of  his  failing  life, 
the  bearing  of  his  little  irritabilities,  the 
watching  his  every  wish.  And  in  that  cor- 
rupt and  suffering  city,  so  full  of  sins  and 
wrongs  and  pain,  there  was  no  lack  of  wider 
ministries. 

The  whole  work  of  the  Church  lay  before 
her.  Slavery  was  in  the  world,  slavery  with 
its  possibilities  of  crucifixion,  with  its  certain- 
ties of  degradation.  The  gladiatorial  games 
were  there  ;  and  the  Empire  which  provided 
them,  and  the  people  who  delighted  in  them 
were  there. 

All  these  mountains  of  wrong  had  to  be 
overthrown,  and  every  one  of  them  had  to  be 
overthrown  by  no  earthquake,  by  no  volcanic 
outburst,  by  no  thunderbolt  of  Divine  ven- 
geance, but  from  within,  slowly,  impercep- 
tibly, by  the  living  waters  cleansing,  and  the 
sacred  fire  enkindling  heart  after  heart. 

Slowly,  imperceptibly,  yet  by  no  quiet,  in- 
evitable diffusion  of  an  atmosphere,  by  a  rev- 
olution in  heart  after  heart  wrought  by  a 


486        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

power  far  mightier  than  any  which  convulsed 
the  visible  world, — by  unflinching  loyalty, 
and  unconquerable  courage,  and  unquench- 
able love,  by  the  willing  sacrifice  of  life  after 
life,  in  ministrations  of  charity,  and  in  deaths 
of  anguish. 

Victory,  sure  and  steady,  but  always 
through  the  vanquished.  Victory,  not  by 
the  lightnings,  but  by  the  Cross. 

To  Callias,  the  young  Athenian  sculptor, 
the  difficulty  of  uniting  the  new  loyalty  with 
the  old  habits  of  life,  seemed  at  first  the 
greatest. 

Laon  and  Siward  still  worked  on  at  the  ar- 
morer's workshop  in  the  Suburra.  We  do  not 
hear  that  the  Centurion  of  those  days  left  his 
calling  as  a  calling.  The  arms  of  the  Roman 
soldiers,  if  often  used  in  the  destruction  of 
national  life,  were  yet  in  general  employed  in 
the  support  of  law  and  order. 

With  Siward  the  old  desire  for  the  libera- 
tion of  his  Germans  was  not  yet  quenched. 
Understanding  now  what  liberation  meant,  un- 
derstanding that  no  one  can  be  set  truly  free 
except  from  within,  and  knowing  how  this 
emancipation  was  effected,  more  fervently 
than  ever  he  purposed,  one  day  to  return 
among  his  people  and  bear  to  them  the  sum- 
mons to  the  service  which  is  perfect  free- 
dom. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        487 

But  he  had  much  to  learn  ere  he  could 
teach ;  nor  could  he  preach  until  he  was 
sent. 

Meantime  he  learned  continually  by  work- 
ing, by  listening,  by  praying,  and  he  felt  as  in 
the  old  days,  that  each  day's  work  was  a 
preparation  for  a  better.  How  much  better 
he  had  not  known  then.  How  much  better 
he  did  not  yet  know. 

But  to  Callias  the  perplexing  questions 
which  beset  the  early  Christians  presented 
themselves  for  immediate  decision  ;  how  to 
reconcile  the  beauty  of  the  Pagan  sculpture 
with  its  desecrations,  how  to  disentangle  the 
Beauty  from  the  Idolatry  and  the  Vice  which 
entwined  their  rank,  poisonous  growth  round 
every  portion  of  it. 

The  early  Church,  we  know,  had  an  im- 
perial fearlessness  of  evil.  Into  the  very 
shrines  of  the  corrupt  rites  she  entered  in  her 
Vestal  Stole,  and  claimed  therein  whatever 
was  good  and  beautiful  and  true  as  belonging 
to  her  Lord. 

In  the  form  of  Orpheus,  for  instance,  shep- 
herding the  sheep  with  his  lyre,  she  saw  the 
Good  Shepherd  of  all  the  Flocks  of  God,  in 
heaven  and  earth,  Beautiful  and  True  and 
Good,  and  fearlessly  delineated  the  symbol  of 
Orpheus  on  her  sacred  sepulchres. 

Too  full  of  faith  and  love  was  she  in  those 


488        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

first  days  to  know  fear.  With  no  apologetic 
concessions,  but  with  Imperial  claims  to  Uni- 
versal Empire,  she  came  forth  into  the  world. 
While  she  dared  the  Cross  and  the  Wild 
Beasts  in  the  Arena,  and  the  Plague,  she  dared 
also  as  fearlessly  the  worse  perils  of  moral 
pestilence,  entering  any  lazar-house  to  rescue 
thence  whatever  could  be  rescued. 

Still,  diseased  and  ghastly  as  the  life  was, 
heathenism  was  yet  living ;  and  it  was  not 
possible  for  the  Christian  sculptor  to  carve 
Apollos  or  Venuses  for  Temples  where  in  any 
sense  they  were  still  worshiped.  Nor  was 
it  possible  for  Apollos  and  Venuses  to  be  re- 
ceived into  Christian  households,  as  harmless 
decorations,  fair  relics  of  a  religion  passed 
away.  Christianity  was  a  religion  primarily 
in  the  sense  of  its  being  not  an  opinion,  but  a 
loyalty.  And  perpetually,  practical  questions 
would  arise,  which  involved  a  decision  be- 
tween a  Pretender  and  the  King. 

Pagan  religion  was  not  yet  dead,  and  there- 
fore Christian  Art  was  not  yet  possible. 

Moreover  the  world  had  to  be  conquered  ; 
every  Christian  was  a  soldier,  and  soldiers  in 
such  a  campaign  had  little  time  for  Art. 

Callias,  therefore,  abandoned  for  the  pres- 
ent the  sculpture  of  the  human  form,  and  lim- 
ited himself  to  making  such  things  as  were 
needed  for  the  homes  of  men ;  cups  and  flag- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        489 

ons,  and  urns,  as  beautiful  as  he  could  make 
them. 

On  Callias  and  Hilda,  more  than  on  any  of 
the  little  company  around  them,  Christianity 
brought  an  apparent  loss. 

To  Siward  longing  for  the  freedom  of  his 
Germans  ;  to  Clcelia  disguised  and  imprisoned 
in  her  poor  crippled  frame,  and  bereaved  of 
her  dearest,  to  Laon  on  the  verge  of  the  other 
life, — to  Siguna,  with  but  one  longing  left  in 
this, — it  was  altogether  Gospel, — altogether 
gain,  with  no  present  loss,  whatever  the  fu- 
ture might  demand. 

But  the  mother  and  father  of  those  fair 
young  children,  came  at  once  under  the  pres- 
sure of  the  great  burdens  of  the  world,  which 
hitherto  young  and  strong  and  buoyant  as 
they  were,  had  scarcely  touched  them.  They 
became  members  of  an  Immortal  Band,  ap- 
pointed to  the  front  of  the  Battle. 

As  the  mother  looked  on  her  children,  un- 
speakable as  the  joy  was  of  committing  them 
for  life  and  death  to  Him  Who  was  Lord  of 
both,  and  had  taken  the  little  ones  in  his  arms, 
nevertheless,  it  could  not  banish  the  convic- 
tion that  in  training  them  to  be  His  disciples, 
she  was  training  them  for  a  service  in  which 
they  deliberately  subjected  themselves  to  a 
destiny  as  cruel  as  the  worst  infliction  of 
slavery. 

21* 


490         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

There  was  no  levity  in  Christian  life  in 
those  days.  The  holy  depth  of  the  joy  for- 
bade it,  and  the  weight  of  the  glory  to  be  re- 
vealed, but  also  the  probability  of  the  inter- 
vening suffering. 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

HEN  the  day's  work  was  done,  Si- 
ward  might  often  be  seen,  with  his 
mother,  on  the  quays  by  the  Tiber, 
at  the  schools  of  the  masters  of  the 
Gladiators,  or  at  the  slave-dealers,  gleaning 
any  information  they  could  about  captives,  or 
foreign  slaves. 

Through  countless  bands  of  downcast-look- 
ing men  and  women,  brought  from  all  quar- 
ters of  the  Empire  to  the  great  slave-market 
of  Rome,  Siguna's  eyes  had  searched  in  vain 
for  Olave. 

Year  by  year  she  had  traced,  in  thought, 
the  changes  time  must  have  made  in  the  form 
she  had  seen  last  in  the  fullness  of  manly 
strength.  Sometimes  she  said  to  herself  that 
perhaps  his  countenance  would  be  so  changed, 
and  his  form  so  bowed  that  she  might  scarcely 
recognize  him.  But  the  voice  she  could  never 
fail  to  know  ;  the  voice  uttering  her  name. 
Might  not  she  also  be  so  changed  that  even 

(491) 


492        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

Olave  might  scan  her  features  vacantly,  find- 
ing no  traces  of  old  times  ?  She  had  watched 
herself  change,  looking  at  herself  as  if  with  his 
eyes,  and  had  seen  the  golden  hair  turn  to 
gray,  and  the  furrows  deepen,  and  the  eyes 
lose  their  lustre,  and  the  cheeks  their  fresh- 
ness ;  and  transferring  the  same  slow  work  of 
time  to  the  face  she  remembered  so  full  of 
power  and  life,  more  and  more,  as  the  years 
went  on,  the  fear  grew  that  they  might  possi- 
bly meet,  gaze  vacantly  on  one  another,  and 
pass  by  and  so  lose  their  one  opportunity  of 
reunion  for  ever. 

But  the  voice  she  felt  could  never  change 
so  that  she  could  fail  to  recognize  it.  Some 
tones  utterly  indescribable  to  any  besides, 
would  reveal  him  to  her,  above  all,  if  they 
spoke  her  name.  And  with  him  she  was  sure 
it  must  be  the  same. 

Patiently  therefore  she  would  pass  through 
every  company  of  German  captives,  softly  re- 
iterating his  name. 

So  year  after  year  had  passed,  but  no  re- 
sponsive look  or  tone  had  come.  Still  she 
hoped  on.  To  every  one  else,  even  to  Siward, 
the  hope  had  come  to  seem  a  mere  fond  delu- 
sion. He  never  failed  to  attend  and  guard 
her,  and  as  far  as  he  could  to  assist  her  in  her 
search,  but  to  him  other  hopes  and  other  work 
grew  out  of  it. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        493 

Stories  of  wrong  and  sorrow  were  poured 
out  into  his  ear.  From  East  and  West  and 
North  and  South  the  cry  of  the  oppressed 
came  to  him  ;  sometimes  with  the  fruits  of  his 
daily  labor  he  would  relieve  the  misery  he 
saw  so  much  of;  sometimes  even  he  had  been 
able- to  pay  a  ransom.  Sometimes  he  had 
been  able  to  bring  the  tidings  of  the  Life 
given  a  Ransom,  given  for  all,  and  of  the  Mas- 
ter whose  disciples  could  never  in  the  deepest 
sense  be  in  bondage  more. 

Esther  and  Onias  had  remained  at  Antioch, 
and  the  means  of  the  little  company  at  Rome, 
Laon,  Clcelia  Diodora,  Callias  and  Hilda,  Si- 
guna  and  Siward,  were  very  scanty.  But  in 
every  Christian  heart  was  erected  that  Altar 
to  Pity  which  the  Pity  of  God  never  suffers 
to  fail  in  sacrifices,  or  in  the  heavenly  fire. 

At  this  time,  at  the  beginning  of  the  reign 
of  Claudius  Caesar,  the  number  of  captives 
from  the  North  began  to  increase.  Two  gen- 
erals, Servius  Galba  and  Corbulo,  had  crossed 
the  Rhine  once  more,  and  recommenced  the 
conquest  of  the  Germans.  And  from  the 
Chatti  and  Chauci,  and  other  tribes  in  the 
country  between  the  Rhine  and  the  Elbe — 
the  native  land  of  Siguna  and  Olave — fair- 
haired  men  and  women,  and  aged  people  and 
little  children  began  to  arrive. 

They  came  along  the  Flaminian  Way.    And 


494        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

evening  after  evening  the  mother  and  son 
used  to  go  forth  along  that  Great  Northern 
Road  to  watch  these  captive  bands  of  their 
compatriots,  dragged  or  driven  along  the 
road  by  which,  so  many  years  before,  they 
themselves  had  been  led  to  Rome. 

At  length,  in  May,  it  was  reported  that 
there  had  been  a  successful  invasion,  and  that 
an  unusual  number  of  captives  were  expected. 
Siguna  persuaded  Siward  to  start  early  in  the 
morning  and  go  a  day's  journey  from  the 
City,  so  as  to  be  more  secure  of  not  missing 
any  who  might  arrive. 

Before  evening  they  reached  a  slope  beyond 
the  undulating  plane  of  the  Campagna,  which 
seemed  to  Siward  familiar  as  if  he  had  visited 
it  in  a  dream.  Siguna  was  wearied,  and  they 
sat  down  to  rest  a  few  moments  before  they 
climbed  higher.  As  they  rested  they  turned 
their  faces  towards  Rome. 

Before,  them  stretched  the  arrowy  lines  of 
the  Roman  Road,  scaling  the  hills  and  span- 
ning the  valleys. 

Slowly,  as  they  gazed,  the  day  dissolved 
into  dusk,  the  silvery  glimpses  of  the  sea  be- 
tween the  openings  of  the  hills  vanished,  the 
rolling  surges  of  the  Campagna  grew  dim  and 
gray,  the  glossy  bays  and  evergreen  oaks 
around  them  were  massed  in  impenetrable 
shade,  until  at  last,  on  earth,  nothing  was 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.        495 

discernible  but  those  arrowy  lines  of  road, 
stretching  into  the  darkness  ; — and  nothing  in 
heaven  but  the  green  and  golden  seas  which 
quivered  between  the  purple  bars  of  lower 
cloud,  or  the  ruby  amber  which  jewelled  the 
tops  of  the  sunlit  clouds  above. 

Suddenly  the  full  recollection  of  the  morn- 
ing when  he  had  sat  there  with  his  mother 
on  their  first  approach  to  Rome,  rushed  on 
Siward's  mind. 

"  The  walls  of  Asgard  ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Mother,  since  we  were  here  last,  we  have 
found  we  have  entered  the  Gates  of  the  City 
of  God  !  Do  you  remember  that  morning, 
long  ago,  when  we  sat  here,  both  slaves, 
looking  towards  Rome.  To  me,  the  very 
words  we  spoke,  and  the  thoughts  I  could  not 
speak  come  back  with  a  strange  clearness. 
'  Death,'  you  said,  '  cannot  be  kept  out  even  of 
Asgard'  And  I  thought,  ' Is  there  no  place 
where  wrong  and  death  cannot  come?  No 
time  when  Justice  and  Truth  will  rule  ?  No- 
where a  happy  City  of  the  good  ?'  Mother, 
do  you  remember?" 

"  I  remember,"  she  replied,  "  you  said,  '  Did 
no  one  know  ?  Then  it  was  not  worth  living 
longer,  it  would  be  better  to  die  and  know.' 
And  I  said,  '  Die  and  know  what  ? '  Then  you 
spoke  with  a  protecting  gentleness  which  made 
me  think  of  your  father,  boy  as  you  were, 


496        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

and  you  said  you  had  been  a  coward  to  wish 
to  die  and  desert  me,  and  that  for  me  and 
Hilda  it  was  well  worth  while  to  live.  I  re- 
member, my  son,  you  have  well  kept  the 
charge  you  took  on  yourself  then." 

"  Think,  mother !"  he  resumed,  "  how  every 
thing  I  longed  to  know,  or  dared  to  hope,  has 
been  fulfilled,  and  yet  in  a  way  none  of  us 
would  have  chosen,  or  dreamed  of.  Fulfilled 
by  worse  than  my  worst  fears  having  proved 
true.  I  never  told  you  what  I  saw  when  1 
left  you  that  May  morning.  It  was  here  first 
that  I  saw  the  shadow  which  lowered  so  long 
over  our  lines.  It  was  here  first  that  I  saw 
one  dying  on  a  Cross.  And,  now,  the  Holy 
and  the  Just ;  the  Deliverer,  such  as  I  was 
groping  for  in  vain  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left, — the  King, — the  Son  of  God, — has 
died  on  such  a  Cross  as  that.  And  Death  it- 
self is  slain.  Death  itself  has  become  the 
Gate  of  the  Heavenly  City  into  which,  unlike 
Asgard,  Death  can  never  come.  More  even 
than  that,  He  Himself,  the  Crucified,  has  be- 
come the  Gate  of  the  City  of  God,  the  City 
of  the  Immortals,  the  City  of  the  forgiven  and 
the  loving,  to  be  entered  here  on  earth,  with- 
out a  barrier, — stretching  up  the  heights  of 
heaven,  with  gates  on  earth,  ever  open  to 
men." 

They  did  not  journey  farther  that  night. 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         497 

« 

On  a  bed  of  dry  leaves,  wrapped,  after  she  had 
fallen  asleep  in  Siward's  cloak  as  well  as  her 
own,  Siguna  slept  the  sleep  of  the  weary. 

But  Siward  could  not  sleep.  Such  thank- 
fulness filled  his  heart,  and  such  wide  hopes 
of  a  life  of  service  for  his  Lord,  and  for  his 
people. 

Those  arrowy  lines  of  road  which  had 
seemed  to  him  of  old  as  threads  of  the  web 
which  drew  the  prey  to  Rome,  had  become 
to  him  as  lines  along  which  should  glide  the 
sunbeams  of  the  Good  Tidings. 

"  And  I,"  he  thought,  "  even  I,  may  be  one 
of  the  bearers  of  that  light." 

In  the  morning,  early,  before  his  mother 
awoke,  he  went  to  buy  a  draught  of  milk  from 
a  goatherd  whose  flocks  were,  scattered  over 
the  slopes. 

At  the  next  turn  of  the  road,  he  came  on  a 
band  of  captives  with  a  Roman  guard. 

On  a  bank  by  the  roadside  was  sleeping  an 
old  man,  a  little  apart  from  the  rest.  His 
white  beard  fell  on  his  breast.  His  sleep 
seemed  uneasy ;  once  or  twice  he  moaned  as 
if  in  pain,  and  then  Siward  saw  that  his  bare 
feet  were  wounded  and  blistered,  and  his  an- 
cles grazed  with  fetters. 

While  Siward  was  still  looking  at  him  com- 
passionately, as  at  one  of  the  countless  suffer- 
ers of  that  oppressed  world,  wondering  what 


498        VICTOR Y  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

further  miseries  the  few  years  left  him  on  earth 
might  involve,  the  old  man  awoke.  Not  be- 
wildered, altogether  awake,  at  once,  as  one 
accustomed  to  be  on  his  guard  against  sur- 
prises. He  arose  at  once,  and  Siward  saw, 
through  all  the  feebleness  of  age,  and  the 
weariness  of  pain,  the  soldierly  bearing,  and 
the  power  of  endurance,  and  of  command,  in 
the  clear  blue  eyes. 

He  hazarded  a  few  words  in  his  native 
German.  They  were  answered  in  the  same 
dialect. 

A  hope  flashed  on  him.  But  before  he  had 
time  to  make  inquiries,  —  suddenly,  —  not  in 
the  timid,  hesitating,  anxious  tones  to  which 
he  had  become  so  accustomed,  but  with  a 
ring  of  recognition  and  joy  which  brought 
back  all  the  youth  into  the  voice,  burst  on  him 
the  familiar  name — 

"Olave!  Olave !" 

And  the  answer — 

"  Siguna !  my  lost !  my  wife !  mother  of  my 
children !"  was  all  but  hushed  in  Siguna's 
sobs  of  joy. 

•»  -x-  *  *  #  *• 

With  Siward  there  was  no  doubt  or  hesi- 
tation as  to  the  duty  which  had  fallen  on  him. 

In  the  slave-market,  at  the  gladiatorial 
games,  one  human  chattel  was  as  good  as  an- 
other, except  for  the  work  to  be  got  out  of 


VIC  SORT  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.        499 

either.  In  this  case  the  exchange  of  feeble 
old  age  for  vigorous  manhood  was  one  to  be 
accepted  with  alacrity. 

No  choice  was  left  to  Olave  or  Siguna. 
Siward  had  effected  the  transfer  of  himself 
for  his  father,  before  either  he  or  his  mother 
knew  of  it.  And  the  leader  of  the  band  of 
captives  sarcastically  declined  to  annul  it,  at 
the  old  man's  entreaties. 

Once  more,  therefore,  Siward  trod  those 
last  weary  miles  of  the  Flaminian  Way,  a  slave. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


T  was  the  birthday  of  the  Emperor 
Claudius.  Lame,  with  a  head  that 
quivered  from  palsy, — the  aversion 
of  his  grandfather  Augustus,  the  butt 
of  the  courtiers,  despised  by  his  own  mother 
Antonia,  Claudius  the  brother  of  Germanicus, 
after  fifty  years  experience  of  the  contempt 
with  which  that  hard  old  world  regarded 
bodily  infirmity,  had  been  dragged  from  the 
corner  of  the  palace  where  he  had  crouched 
in  terror  after  the  assassination  of  Caligula  to 
wield  the  Empire  of  the  world. 

To  his  honor,  those  years  of  neglect  and 
scorn  do  not  seem  to  have  embittered  him. 
He  indulged  in  no  act  of  petty  vengeance. 
He  had  no  pleasure  in  seeing  others  suffer. 
The  only  indelible  evil  stamped  on  his  char- 
acter by  those  long  years  of  contumely  and 
impotence,  were  a  destitution  of  self-reliance, 
an  abject  timidity  which  palsied  his  power  for 

(500) 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         501 

good,  and  left  him  the  prey  of  wicked  women, 
and'  designing  courtiers. 

But  whether  the  Emperor  delighted  in  them- 
or  not,  the  appetite  of  the  Roman  people  for 
the  sanguinary  gladiatorial  games  must  be 
satisfied,  and  the  Imperial  birthday  must  be 
celebrated  by  an  especial  slaughter. 

For  many  years  Claudius  had  been  forbid- 
den to  appear  in  the  Imperial  seat,  at  the 
circus  or  amphitheatre,  because  his  stunted 
and  slightly  palsied  form  was  thought  by  the 
Imperial  family  to  be  a  slur  on  them,  a 
blot  on  the  Beauty  and  Strength  by  which 
their  "Divine"  lineage  was  distinguished, — a 
Wounding  of  the  Majesty  of  Cassar,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  populace. 

But  to-day  all  this  was  changed.  The  Clau- 
dius Cassar  was  the  Divine  Dispenser  of  bread 
and  games, — and  his  presence  was  to  glorify 
the  Combat. 

The  crowds  streamed  out  of  Rome  to  the 
Campus  Martius,  and  filled  range  after  range 
of  the  seats  of  the  great  amphitheatre  near  the 
Tiber. 

It  was  the  first  of  August.  The  glare  of 
the  sun  was  overpowering.  Many  protected 
themselves  from  it  by  what  others  regarded 
as  the  Oriental  effeminacy  of  umbrellas.  But 
the  show  was  to  be  magnificent,  and  it  was 
worth  enduring  something  to  see  thousands 


502        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  slaves  and  criminals,  and  among  them  hun- 
dreds of  these  new  German  captives,  who  had 
been  in  training  since  May,  (stalwart  men 
most  of  them,)  in  deadly  conflict  with  each 
other,  and  afterwards  with  hundreds  of  Nu- 
midian  lions,  panthers  and  tigers. 

For  after  the  gladiatorial  fights  the  people 
had  been  promised  a  grand  combat  with  wild 
beasts. 

The  quays  on  the  Tiber  had  been  danger- 
ous frequently  of  late  with  the  disembarkation 
of  the  irritated  and  bewildered  beasts. 

And  now  their  unquiet  moanings  and  roar- 
ings could  be  heard  in  the  dens,  beneath  the 
Amphitheatre,  where  they  were  chained,  hun- 
gry and  perplexed,  in  readiness  for  the  conflict. 

Siward  was  there,  not  among  the  specta- 
tors ;  among  the  gladiators.  Not  among 
those  who  were  armed  fully  for  combat  with 
each  other,  but  clothed  in  the  short  tunic, 
and  armed  only  with  the  prong  of  the  beast 
combatants.  Choice  having  been  allowed 
him,  he  had  chosen  rather  to  fight  with  the 
wild  bqasts  than  to  make  sport  for  a  Roman 
crowd  by  fighting  for  life  with  men  who  had 
done  him  no  wrong,  many  of  them  his  com- 
patriots. 

It  was  in  no  solemn  silence,  as  of  a  con- 
demned cell,  that  the  men  around  him  were 
awaiting  their  terrible  lot.  Many  of  them,  in- 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         503 

deed,  were  captives,  reluctantly  driven  to  this 
cruel  combat ;  yet  even  some  of  these  had  en- 
tered with  zest  into  the  training-,  and  looked 
forward  to  the  fight,  not  without  a  fierce  ex- 
citement, and  not  without  a  hope  of  victory 
and  escape. 

But  the  majority,  on  this  occasion  at  least, 
were  criminals,- men  of  the  lowest  and  most 
reckless  character,  to  whom  the  descent  into 
the  arena  was  rather  a  rise  than  a  fall  in  life. 
Or  they  were  voluntary  combatants,  men 
who  willingly  hired  themselves,  who  had 
chosen  prize-fighting  as  their  profession,  and 
were  the  heroes  and  the  models  of  the  young 
Roman  nobles,  the  popular  subjects  of  endless 
gambling,  themselves  content  to  gamble  away 
their  lives  for  the  pay  and  the  palms,  and  even 
without  pay  or  applause,  having  a  fierce  wild 
beast's  joy  in  the  fight. 

They  had  all  taken  the  terrible  gladiator's 
oath,  and  probably  taken  it  with  little  thought. 

"  We  swear  the  oath,  to  be  burnt,  van- 
quished, beaten,  slain  with  the  sword,  and 
whatever  else  is  commanded  us,  submitting 
ourselves  to  our  Master,  as  lawful  gladiators 
most  religiously,  body  and  soul." 

To  this  Siward  had  added  in  a  loud,  clear 
voice  : 

"  With  reserve  to  the  Master  to  WThom  I 
have  sworn  all  this  before." 


504        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

He  had  gone  diligently  through  all  the 
training.  He  intended  to  sell  his  life  dearly. 
He  had  hoped  to  do  so  much  with  it. 

And  he  had  much  hope. 

Few  frames  more  muscular  or  agile  than 
his  were  among  that  desperate,  but  well- 
trained  band. 

That  gathering  of  gladiators  was  no  quiet 
place  in  which  to  prepare  for  what  might  be 
the  last  scene  of  life  to  him. 

Oaths,  and  jests,  and  eager  betting,  and 
angry  debating,  and  loud  wild  laughter,  and 
the  fierce  boasting  of  those  who  had  already  sur- 
vived many  such  combats,  made  a  din  around 
him  which  drowned  the  roaring  of  the  beasts. 

He  found  it  difficult  to  think  or  pray. 

Only,  as  often  in  moments  of  suspense,  or 
of  strong  excitement,  one  set  of  words  kept 
beating  through  his  brain,  half  mechanically, 
yet  now  and  then  striking  on  his  heart  with  a 
vivid  fulness  of  meaning. 

"  I  swear  to  be  burnt,  vanquished,  beaten, 
slain  with  the  sword,  or  whatever  else  is  com- 
manded, submitting  ourselves  to  our  Master 
religiously,  body  and  soul." 

"  To  our  Master  religiously,  body  and  soul." 

The  words  came  and  went  like  the  monot- 
onous moaning  of  a  wind,  and  beneath  them 
his  heart  was  surging  with  all  its  freight  of 
long-cherished  hopes. 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         505 

It  was  not  for  such  a  combat  he  had  been 
training  himself  all  these  years. 

Would  he  indeed  perish  in  the  Arena,  un- 
distinguished among  those  degraded  crimi- 
nals and  men  who  had  basely  sold  themselves 
to  such  a  life  ?  Perish  without  a  word  on  his 
lips,  or  a  sign  on  his  torn  limbs,  to  show  in 
what  Master's  service  he  had  really  fallen,  by 
what  Sacrament  he  had  been  bound  ?  Perish  ; 
and  the  glorious  message  he  had  hoped  to 
bear  among  his  people  perish  for  them  with 
him? 

Still  the  words  came  back : 

"  Submitting  ourselves  to  our  Master  re- 
ligiously, body  and  soul." 

They  came,  as  of  old  the  Master's  voice 
across  the  surges  of  Galilee,  and  brought  a 
great  calm. 

Religiously,  willingly,  not  as  a  victim,  as  a 
living  sacrifice,  redeemed  body  and  soul,  be- 
longing body  and  soul  to  the  Redeemer,  he 
would  die.  The  life  his  own  had  rescued, 
would,  he  felt  sure,  not  be  forgotten  or  lost 
before  God. 

At  length  the  first  combats  were  over.  The 
signal  for  the  wild  beast  fight  was  given. 

At  one  gate  came  forth  the  human  combat- 
ants. At  the  other  were  driven  in  the  raging 
troops  of  bewildered  beasts,  bears,  lions,  pan- 
thers, and  among  them  a  few  peaceable  giants 
22 


506        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  elephants,  to  be  irritated  and  maddened 
into  one  undistinguishable  tangle  of  rage  and 
pain  and  slaughter. 

For  an  instant  the  crowd  of  eager  and  ex- 
pectant faces  on  the  seats  of  the  amphitheatre 
flashed  on  Siward,  as  the  troop  of  combatants 
passed  before  the  Emperor  with  the 

"  Ave  Caesar,  morituri  te  saluant." 

For  one  calm  conscious  moment  he  lifted 
up  his  heart. 

"  Hail  Christ,  living  or  dying  I  worship 
Thee  ;  "  then  in  the  words  of  the  fatal  oath, 
"  To  thee  Master,  to  Thee,  body  and  soul." 

Then  the  rush  of  the  combat  began. 

And  thenceforth  he  was  conscious  of  nothing 
but  the  straining  of  every  nerve  and  muscle 
in  the  conflict  for  life,  until,  torn  and  bleeding, 
after  the  last  death-grapple,  he  saw  a  power- 
ful panther  rolling  in  the  dust  before  him, 
heard  a  shout  of  applause  ringing  from  all 
sides  of  the  crowded  amphitheatre.  Then  all 
sights  and  sounds  faded  into  shadows  and  dim 
echoes  far  away,  and  nothing  remained  clear. 

"  To  Thee  Master,  body  and  soul,  to  Thee." 
****** 

He    woke ;    not    to    the    welcomes    which 
never  die  into  farewells; — but  once  more  to' 
the  wistful  tenderness  of  his  mother's  eyes  ; 
not  to  the  immortal  vigor  of  the  life  beyond 
death,  but  to  the  mortal  weakness  of  a  frame 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         507 

which  could  never  again  be  as  it  had  been, 
the  willing  servant  of  the  spirit. 

Very  slowly,  by  the  tenderest  nursing,  he 
recovered,  but  maimed  and  weakened  hope- 
lessly. 

At  first  it  seemed  very  hard  to  be  thus, 
beaten  back  a  helpless  wreck  on  the  stormy 
shore  he  seemed  to  have  left  for  ever;  to 
come  back  thus  to  the  old  work  without  the 
old  power. 

He  had  longed,  and  prayed,  and  striven 
hard  for  life.  The  Kingdom  of  God  had  such 
glorious  conquests  to  make  still  on  earth,  and 
here,  on  earth  he  had  felt  he  might  aid  in 
them.  Not  by  passive  endurance  only,  and 
by  feminine  patience,  and  by  martyrdom,  but 
by  daring  and  enterprise,  by  the  highest  con- 
tinuous strain  of  the  energy  of  the  bravest 
men  were  the  first  conquests  of  Christianity 
achieved. 

Above  also,  in  the  higher  world  he  knew 
he  might  aid  in  that  highest  service,  although 
he  knew  not  how,  and  he  would  like  not  to 
have  seen  the  Master  until  he  could  have 
done  a  little  more  towards  winning  the  "  Well 
done."  He  had  taken  the  oath  to  suffer  and  to 
die  ;  he  had  not  thought  it  might  mean  rather 
live  and  suffer. 

Life  being  yielded  up,  he  had  thought  of  no 
other  alternative  but  that  other  life  beyond, 


5o8         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

of  the  inconceivable  joy  of  seeing  the  Master's 
face,  and  being  for  ever  with  Him. 

To  die  to  the  work  of  earth  and  yet  not  to 
enter  on  that  heavenly  life,  this  was  what  he 
had  not  dreamed  would  be  laid  on  Him. 
.  The  only  thing  that,  at  first,  made  the  pros- 
pect endurable  to  him  was  the  welcome  in  his 
mother's  eyes.  For  her  sake  he  felt  it  was 
well. 

"  Thank  God !"  she  said  to  him  one  day, 
when  his  strength  began  to  return.  "  Do  you 
remember  the  man  of  God  in  Esther's  books 
who  took  his  only  son  up  the  hill  to  sacrifice 
him,  and  raised  the  knife  to  slay  him  ?  If  thou 
hadst  died,  my  son,  all  my  life  would  have 
been  like  that.  Day  after  day  I  should  have 
felt  toiling  up  the  hill  to  the  altar  of  sacrifice, 
and  lifting  up  my  hand  to  slay  thee." 

He  was  content  to  spare  her  that  anguish, 
although  to  him  it  seemed  that  the  burden 
had  but  been  transferred.  All  his  life,  he 
thought,  he  would  be  toiling  up  the  weary 
hill,  bearing  the  wood  of  sacrifice,  and  having 
no  strength  to  bear  anything  else. 

Yet  he  was  content.  The  Master  had  said 
it  was  the  Cross  His  disciples  should  bear 
after  Him.  That  must  mean,  he  knew  too 
well,  as  hard  a  thing  as  a  man  could  endure. 
Exactly  this  had  been  laid  on  him.  It  was  no 
more  than  he  had  willingly  undertaken  in  his 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         509 

baptismal  promise  when  rising  from  the  cold 
tide  of  the  Orontes'  into  the  glory  of  the  Sy- 
rian dawn,  baptized  into  Christ,  he  had  come 
forth  into  a  new  world,  and  a  new  life,  vowed, 
as  he  was  altogether  redeemed  by  Him  to 
be  altogether  His,  to  suffer  combat,  serve  or  die, 
"  to  be  subject  to  Him  body  and  soul  for  ever." 

It  was  all  the  harder  because  the  life  he  had 
rescued  by  his  own,  seemed  so  little  likely  to 
be  a  substitute  for  his,  and  so  doubtful  a  bless- 
ing to  its  possessor. 

Very  seldom,  at  first,  did  the  old  man, 
Olave  the  Smith,  enter  the  sick  chamber,  and 
when  for  a  few  moments  he  came  and  stood 
beside  his  son,  he  would  scarcely  speak  a 
word,  but  stand  helpless  and  dumb,  with  a 
look  of  bewilderment  and  pain  in  his  face, 
more  like  the  perplexed,  wistful  gaze  of  a 
faithful  dog,  than  that  of  human  eyes,  until 
Siguna  would  gently  take  his  hand,  and  dumb 
and  unresisting  he  would  submit  to  be  led  away. 

By  degrees,  however,  he  consented  to  watch 
by  the  couch,  seeming  pleased  like  a  child  to 
be  allowed  to  be  of  use.  He  would  sit  and 
mechanically  brush  away  the  flies  that  buzz 
about  all  defenceless  creatures.  As  he  sat 
thus  Siward  grew  conscious  of  the  world  of 
civilization  that  had  been  slowly  growing 
between  him  and  the  old  barbarian  life. 

To  what  must  the  old  man's  thoughts  be 


510        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

wandering  back,  as  his  eyes  were  fixed  in  that 
sad  far-away  gaze  ?  To  the  old  forest-life,  the 
chase,  the  forge,  the  battle-field,  the  carouse 
with  its  monotonous  yet  eager  talk  of  the 
chase,  the  forge,  the  battle ;  to  the  early  mar- 
ried life  when  his  boys  and  girls  were  grow- 
ing up  around  him,  to  a  recurrence  of  just 
such  a  life  as  his  own,  as  surely,  it  seemed,  as 
the  nestlings  of  this  season  into  the  songsters 
of  the  next. 

To  old  Olave  the  city  was  a  mere  prison,  a 
labyrinthine  barrier  between  him  and  free- 
dom. The  mythologies  and  philosophies 
with  their  aspirations  after  light  and  their 
chasms  of  darkness,  which  had  sprung  from 
the  fertilizing  contact  of  nation  with  nation, 
and  man  with  man, — and  which  both  by  their 
light  and  their  darkness  had  prepared  the 
world  for  Him  in  whom  all  practical  prob- 
lems are  solved,  and  all  theoretical  perplexi- 
ties hushed  to  acquiescent -.expectation, — to 
old  Olave  the  Smith,  all  these  things  were 
but  as  the  language  of  an  unknown  world. 

Philosophy  was  to  him  known  but  in  its  bar- 
est practical  conclusion  ;  such  as  to  endure 
what  could  not  be  cured  ;  history  limited  itself 
to  narratives  of  the  feuds  between  the  Chatti, 
the  Cherusci,  and  the  Chauci,  with  a  dim 
background  of  mythical  heroes  in  the  far  East 
which  constituted  also  his  theology. 


riCTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         51! 

And  yet  beneath  those  silent  lips  flowed 
the  sources  from  which  all  poetry  and  philos- 
ophy and  mythology  had  sprung,  the  rejoic- 
ing, sorrowing,  struggling,  yearning  human 
heart.  To  him  also  God  was  indeed  the  only 
source  of  life.  Before  him  also  was  Death, 
and  the  life  unknown. 

And  Siward  felt  not  a  doubt  that  in  that 
redeeming  life  and  death  of  the  Son  of  God, 
Lord  of  all  men,  lay  what  would  meet  his 
father's  sorrows  and  needs,  dim  and  speech- 
less as  they  were,  as  well  as  those  which  had 
learned  to  name  themselves. 

What  then  was  to  unseal  that  dumb  heart 
to  him  ? 

He  had  not  yet  learned  the  potency  of  the 
spell  which  lay  in  that  worthy  name  by  which 
he  was  named.  He  had  yet  to  learn  that  it 
could  roll  away  the  great  stone  which  seemed 
an  essential  part  of  the  rock,  and  gave  no  sign 
of  the  hollows  within,  as  easily  as  it  could  dis- 
entangle the  subtlest  fastenings. 

"  Father,"  he  said  one  day,  as  they  sat 
alone  together  in  a  little  inner  court,  to  which 
for  the  first  time  he  had  gathered  strength  to 
walk.  "  This  city  is  a  dungeon  to  you.  I 
used  to  feel  it  so  once.  We  will  go  back  to- 
gether to  the  forests." 

The  old  man  made  no  reply  for  some  min- 


512        VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED. 

utes.  His  face  worked  painfully,  and  at  last 
he  exclaimed  abruptly, 

"  The  whole  world  is  a  prison  to  me !  Si- 
ward  !  Boy !  My  son !  you  had  no  right  to 
keep  me  here  against  my  will;  no  right  to 
prevent  my  dying  as  a  soldier,  and  make  me 
live  on  as  a  sick  woman.  To  me  it  would 
have  been  nothing  to  fall  among  their  beasts. 
I  should  never  have  risen  again.  It  was  a 
great  wrong  to  give  me  no  choice,  to  keep 
me  chained  to  a  miserable  old  age  to  see  thee 
suffer  thus." 

"  Father !  "  Siward  said,  "  I  had  no  choice  ; 
no  more  than  thou  hadst.  I  have  learned  of 
the  Father  in  heaven,  thine  and  mine.  I  had 
to  obey  Him.  I  have  sworn  allegiance  to  the 
Master  Who  redeemed  us,  to  Whom  we  be- 
long, thou  and  I.  Thou  didst  not  know  of 
Him.  Painful  or  pleasant  to  thee  or  to  me,  it 
was  for  me  to  go  to  Him  I  serve,  and  for  thee 
to  stay  here  and  learn  of  Him.  I  did  but 
what  I  had  to  do.  He  called  and  I  could  but 
obey  " 

For  the  first  time  the  seal  seemed  broken ; 
the  bewildered  look  changed  into  one  of  ques- 
tioning. 

And,  simple  as  a  little  child,  the  old  man 
sat  and  listened  to  the  Story  which  the  little 
child  can  learn,  and  received  the  religion 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED.         513 

which  "  enters  in  at  lowly  doors,"  because  it 
is  no  elaborate  machinery  of  opinion,  but  the 
revelation  of  relationships,  the  record  of  facts, 
the  story  of  a  life  and  death  and  a  life  that 
ne^cr  does  more,  and  a  love  that  never  fails. 

And  as  he  listened  and  learned,  the  myste- 
ries of  our  common  human  life  grew  clear  to 
him,  the  rents  and  fissures  of  the  heart  torn 
and  convulsed  by  the  changes  of  seventy  years, 
were  filled  with  the  living  waters,  every  rent 
and  fissure  but  deepening  its  capacity  to  re- 
ceive,— and  the  murmurs  of  the  infinite  sea 
by  whose  shore  we  are  all  standing,  to  which 
he  had  listened  wondering  so  long,  not  know- 
ing what  they  meant  or  whence  they  came, 
were  changed  into  music  and  were  interpreted 
into  a  triumphant  song  echoing  the  Voice 
which  commanded  its  waves,  and  the  harps  of 
God  on  the  other  shore. 

Gradually  Siward  endeavored  to  accustom 
himself  to  his  cramped  and  narrowed  life. 

Often  he  would  watch  Clcelia  Diodora  and 
think  how  his  heart  had  warmed,  of  old,  into 
a  glow  of  compassion  for  her  and  other  suf- 
ferers, and  how  little  he  had  comprehended 
what  it  was  actually  to  suffer,  to  take  the  bit- 
ter cup  of  deprivation  and  pain  into  one's  own 
hands,  and  not  merely  try  to  make  it  tolera- 
ble to  others,  but  really  drink  it  ourself. 
22* 


514        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

The  Cross  gained  for  him  ever  deeper  sig- 
nificance ;  not  only  to  save  His  own  from 
suffering,  but  to  enable  them  to  suffer  and  by 
suffering  to  grow  pure  and  strong,  lowly  and 
loving,  like  Himself,  had  He  suffered.  Not 
as  an  Imperial  largess,  from  the  throne  of  the 
Universe,  which  was  His,  had  He  shed  pity 
on  the  world,  not  from  the  joyous  overflow- 
ings of  an  unbroken  heart,  but  from  the  depths 
of  a  heart  broken  for  man,  broken  by  men, 
the  Fountain  of  Divine  Compassion  flowed. 

So,  slowly,  he  learned  to  bow  beneath  the 
Master's  yoke,  the  yoke  the  Father  laid  on 
him,  and  bowing  beneath  it,  found  it  grow 
good  and  kindly,  not  a  fetter  to  hinder  from 
serving,  not  a  burden  to  encumber,  but  the 
yoke  binding  to  the  service  appointed  him, 
and  therefore  for  him  the  highest,  and  the 
best. 

And  having  thus  submitted,  he  had  learned 
his  lesson  and  done  his  work,  and  from  him 
the  yoke  was  taken  off. 

The  apparent  recovery  of  the  spent  strength 
did  not  continue. 

The  heat  of  the  Roman  summer  in  the  stag- 
nant air  of  the  close  city  dwellings,  finished 
in  the  strong  northern  frame  the  work  which 
the  wild  beasts  had  begun. 

There  was   little   speech   among  them  all 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         515 

about  the  end  which  he  slowly  grew  to  hope, 
and  those  who  watched  him  to  fear ;  no  per- 
fect finishing,  no  sweet  melodious  close  of  life. 
Imperfect,  unfinished,  fragmentary,  it  ceased 
to  be  seen. 

With  countless  explanatory  words  unspo- 
ken, and  high  hopes  unfulfilled,  and  high  pur- 
poses not  even  uttered. 

Not  "  as  a  tale  that  is  told ;"  incomplete, 
unexplained,  inexplicable,  as  the  first  pages  of 
a  tale  which  is  not  told,  which  is  but  begun. 
The  last  legible  page  rising  to  no  climax, 
rounded  off  with  no  Finis, — not  the  chapter, 
not  the  sentence  even  finished. 

Incomplete,  because  immortal. 

Unfinished,  because  scarcely  even  begun. 
Passing  imperceptibly  and  quietly  into  the 
next  stage  of  life,  as  childhood  into  youth,  and 
youth  into  manhood,  without  a  break, — at 
least,  without  a  break  to  him,  to  the  deathless 
redeemed  spirit  commending  itself  into  the 
hands  of  the  Father. 

But  to  those  left  below  who  belonged  not 
yet  to  the  life  beyond  the  eternal  gates,  to 
whom,  therefore,  seen  from  this  side,  they 
seem,  not  the  shadow  they  are,  but  often  the 
only  reality  in'  a  world  of  shadows, — many 
things  yet  remained  to  do,  many  lessons  to 
learn,  many  sacrifices  to  accomplish. 


516        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

The  meaning1,  and  the  quiet  beauty,  of  the 
life  they  had  ceased  to  have  among  them,  be- 
gan to  unfold  itself  before  them. 

He  had  said  so  little.  How  was  it  that  he 
had  been  so  much  to  all  ? 

"  Ah  !  "  old  Laon  said,  "  we,  the  talkers, 
shall  pass  away  and  leave  no  such  blank  and 
silence  as  this.  Other  floods  of  speech  will 
flow  on  and  drown  ours  in  forgetfulness,  while 
these  silent  lives  echo  on  and  on.  Speech  is 
for  the  present.  Deeds  are  for  all  time.  They 
never  die,  but  live  on  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
and  out  of  the  hearts,  out  of  which  are  the 
issues,  ever  fresh,  of  fresh  life. 

"  I  thought,"  he  said  at  another  time,  "  I 
was  teaching  him,  as  I  told  him  all  the  wise 
things  I  knew,  while  he  worked  steadily  on 
at  the  old  workshop  in  the  Suburra ;  now  and 
then  asking  some  childlike  question,  or  in  dim 
struggling  words  trying  to  make  me  under- 
stand the  old  legends  of  his  people.  But  all 
the  while  he  was  teaching  me." 

"  How  was  it,"  Laon  said,  again  one  day, 
"  that  he  never  seemed  doing  anything  won- 
derful, and  yet  when  he  sacrificed  his  life,  like 
one  of  the  heroes  of  old,  no  one  thought  it 
anything  wonderful  for  him  to  do.  We  have 
had  a  hero  with  us.  And  we  did  not  know  it. 
Oh,  why  did  we  not  know  it?" 

"  I   knew  it,"  his   mother  said,  softly,  but 


VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

with  a  triumphant  light  in  her  eyes.  "  I  knew 
it  always." 

And  Clcelia  Diodora  felt  that  she  also  had 
known  it.  From  the  moment  when  he  had 
saved  her  from  the  trampling  of  the  crowd  by 
placing  her  so  gently  on  the  steps  of  the  tem- 
ple, to  her  all  manly  heroism  had  been  en- 
shrined in  his  form,  as  all  womanly  heroism 
in  that  of  her  sister  the  Vestal.  To  her  he 
seemed  not  farther  off,  but  rather  nearer,  now 
that  one  veil  of  flesh  was  rent  between  them 
forever.  And  she  could  not  help  feeling  a 
kind  of  keen  joy  in -the  pain  which,  while  it 
impoverished  this  poor  transitory  world  be- 
low, enriched  the  world  above  where  those 
she  loved  best  abode,  with  another  victorious 
heart  who  had  well  fought  his  fight. 

Hilda  wept  over  her  brother  and  would  not 
be  comforted.  "  She  had  thought  the  Master 
would  have  come  back  for  them  all,"  she  said. 
"  She  had  thought  He  would  have  been  here 
and  her  brother  would  not  have  died." 

But  Diodora  said, 

"  I  would  not  have  our  dearest  escape  what 
our  Lord  underwent  for  us.  I  would  not 
miss,  or  have  them  miss  one  step  of  the  dark 
way  He  trod.  What  are  chariots  of  fire  to 
the  glory  of  treading  in  His  footsteps?  To 
all  eternity  I  think  it  will  be  sweet  to  have 
drunk  of  His  cup,  to  have  been  baptized  with 


518        VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

His  baptism.  For  ever — for  ever,  I  think  it 
will  be  good  to  have  died  as  our  Saviour 
died." 

Callias  found  a  solace  in  lavishing  all  the 
skill  he  had  in  making  the  rocky  sepulchre  in 
the  Catacombs  where  Siward  was  laid,  as 
beautiful  as  he  could  with  symbolic  painting. 

In  the  presence  of  that  through  which,  so 
lately,  that  strong  and  gentle  spirit  so  uncon- 
scious of  its  beauty  had  spoken  to  them,  he 
felt  it  would  be  a  sacrilege  to  withdraw  the 
veil  of  humility  which  had  clothed  him.  Nor 
would  he  darken  the  memory  of  the  presence 
of  that  free  and  glad  triumphant  spirit  with 
symbols  of  defeat  and  pain.  Not  Inward  but 
to  his  Lord,  his  Lord  who  had  crowned  him, 
must  all  the  Sacred  Symbols  point.  Not  of 
the  humiliation  of  that  Lord  must  they  speak, 
but  of  His  glory  and  His  joy,  the  glory  and 
the  joy  the  liberated  spirits  were  sharing 
now. 

The  sepulchre  was  brightened  with  the 
form  of  the  good  Shepherd,  strong  and  joy- 
ous in  everlasting  youth,  feeding  His  flocks 
in  heaven  and  earth,  and  carrying  His  lambs 
in  His  bosom :  the  Shepherd  and  the  Living 
time,  the  Life  of  men,  the  source  of  all  the 
life  and  all  the  fruits  of  grace  and  all  the  wine 
of  joy  in  heaven  and  on  earth. 

So  with  these  happy  symbols  around  their 


VICTORY  OF  THE   VANQUISHED.         519 

resting-  place,  these  early  disciples  left  the 
precious  mortal  remains. 

But  not  in  the  Sepulchre,  in  the  dark,  under 
that  low,  cold  roof,  did  they  seek  and  find 
communion  with  him,  any  more  than  with  his 
Lord  and  theirs. 

Something  unutterably  dear  and  sacred  was 
indeed  laid  and  left  there,  sure  to  be  sacredly 
guarded  by  Him  who  had  left  nothing  in  the 
Sepulchre  where  He  had  been  laid  but  the 
folded  grave-clothes,  whose  voice  was,  one 
morning,  to  ring  through  all  the  sepulchres 
and  make  them  as  empty  as  His  own. 

But  not  in  the  Sepulchre,  and  in  the  dark- 
ness,— in  the  daylight,  where  work  could  be 
done ;  in  the  world  where  slavery  and  the 
gladiatorial  games  still  had  their  constant  vic- 
tims ;  in  the  world  of  the  oppressed  and  the 
wronged,  of  outcast  babes,  and  of  lives  lost  in 
ways  unutterably  worse  than  death,  where  as 
yet  there  was  no  hospital  for  the  sick,  no 
refuge  for  the  poor ;  in  the  world  of  blacker 
evil  still,  the  world,  not  of  the  oppressed  but 
of  the  oppressor,  of  those  who  enslaved  the 
slaves,  and  cast  out  their  own  babes  to  perish, 
and  delighted  in  the  dying  agonies  of  the  am- 
phitheatre ;  in  the  world  which  nevertheless 
Christ  the  Lord  had  loved  and  had  redeemed, 
and  where  He  was  working  with  His  own  for 
man,  there  would  they  be  nearest  those  who 


520         VICTORY  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

absent  from  the  body  were  present  with  the 
Lord :  There  they  would  be  working  with 
them  in  one  Kingdom,  in  one  Family,  in  one 
Service.  "  To  them,"  as  their  contemporaries 
said,  "  every  strange  land  was  as  their  native 
country,  and  every  native  country  was  as  a 
foreign  land." 

"  Not  the  world  where  our  beloved  dwell 
with  Christ  is  the  Under-world ;  but  this," 
Clcelia  Diodora  loved  to  say.  "  Not  this,  can  be 
the  Home,  but  what  He  who  knew  it,  called 
His  Father's  House. 

"  Not  we,  but  they  it  is  who  are  awake,  who 
are  the  Living  and  the  Strong. 

"  Not  we  it  is  who  shall  have  the  precedence 
in  the  day  of  the  great  triumph,  but  they." 

And  then  once  more  together,  together  with 
Him, — before  us  all,  will  be  infinite  lengths 
and  breadths  and  heights  and  depths  beyond, 
and  no  darkness  anywhere." 

And  even  then,  even  there,  even  forever 
the  deepest  depth  of  our  joy,  as  the  only 
strength  of  our  agony,  will  be  "  To  Thee, 
Master,  submitting  ourselves  wholly,  to  be 
and  do  whatever  is  commanded  us.  To  thee 
subject  most  religiously,  body  and  soul,  for- 
ever." 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogue. 

/CHRONICLES      OF     THE      SCHONBERG-COTTA 
>-^     FAMILY,     i  vol.,  i2mo $i  50 

Fine  edition.     Crown  Svo,  tinted  paper    ....       2  oo 

Cabinet  edition,  i6mo,  tinted  paper I  50 

Sunday-school  edition,  i8mo,  illustrated  ....       i  oo 

Those  familiar  with  the  life  of  Luther  will  remember  Dame  Ursula 
Cotta,  in  Eisenach,  who,  when  he  was  a  lad  singing  from  door  to 
door  to  support  him  at  school,  took  him  to  her  house  and  ever  after 
befriended  him.  The  author  of  this  book,  for  the  purpose  of  repro- 
ducing in  a  more  familiar  form  the  social  life,  the  religion,  and  some 
of  the  chief  historical  events  and  personages  of  that  momentous 
"period,  finds  in  the  above  fact  a  suggestion  on  which  to  improve. 
The  authoress  manages  her  ingenious  plot  in  the  most  skilful  manner. 
One  can  scarcely  persuade  himself  that  these  are  not  genuine  docu- 
ments fished  out  of  some  old  Lutheran  family  chest. 

"  It  is  intensely  interesting,  and  will  be  a  great  favorite  with  the  public.  It  is 
eminently  one  of  the  star  books  of  the  season." — S.  S.  Times. 

"A  book  of  unusual  attraction  and  merit,  where  the  interest  never  flags,  and  every 
page  is  full  of  gems.  The  work  might  justly  be  termed  '  A  Romance  of  the  Refor- 
mation." The  various  incidents  in  the  life  of  Luther  are  portrayed  with  a  graphic 
beauty  and  truthfulness  rarely  equalled."  *  *  * 

"  It  is  seldom  a  book  appears  which,  like  this,  has  attractions  for  all  classes  ol 
readers.  The  lovers  of  fiction  and  the  lovers  of  history,  the  practical  and  the  sen- 
timental, the  youthful,  and  those  more  advanced,  are  charmed  by  it,  and  its  gentle 
catholic  spirit  will  render  it  equally  attractive  to  the  Protestant  and  Romanist." — 
Albany  Times. 

"  In  this  work  we  seem  almost  to  meet  the  great  men  of  the  Reformation  face  to 
face,  and  to  be  actually  present  in  the  thrilling  scenes  in  which  they  participated." — 
Methodist. 

"  The  family  history  which  it  contains,  if  read  by  itself,  would  be  regarded  as  oie 
of  the  most  successful  portraitures  of  domestic  life  that  has  ever  been  drawn,  tacll 
character  being  delineated  and  preserved  with  striking  distinctness,  and  some  of 
the  characters  being  such  as  the  reader  will  love  to  linger  over  as  he  would  over 
pome  beautiful  portrait  drawn  by  a  master's  pencil." — New  York  Observer. 

"  The  story  from  first  to  last  is  remarkable  for  its  artlessness  and  tenderness,  and 
>.  chains  the  reader's  attention  to  the  close." — Am.  Tfuo.  Review. 

"'I he  prominent  scenes,  from  the  time  of  Huss  to  the  death  of  Luther,  ara 
painted  before  us,  and  we  read  them  with  such  interest  as  even  D'AubignS  can 
rtzrcely  create.  The  book  has  all  the  fascination  of  a  romance." — E 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogue. 

By  the  Author  of  "The  Schonberg-Cotta  Family." 

THE  EARLY  DAWN  ;   OR,  SKETCHES  OF  CHRISTIAN 
LIFE  IN  ENGLAND  IN  THE  OLDEN  TIME.      By  the 
author  of  the  Schonberg-Cotta  Family.   With  Introduction 

by  Prof.  H.  B.  SMITH,  D.D.     12010 $i  50 

Fine  edition.     Crown  8vo,  tinted  paper    ....       2  oo 

Cabinet  edition,  16  mo,  tinted  paper i  50 

Sunday-school  edition,  18  mo,  illustrated      ...       I  oo 

The  Christian  Life  of  England  in  the  Olden  Time  is  heie  depicted, 
through  several  centuries,  from  its  earliest  dawn,  in  its  contrasted 
lights  and  shadows,  down  to  "  the  morning  star  of  the  Reformation." 
The  Druid  is  first  introduced  in  converse  with  the  Jew  and  the  Chris- 
tian. The  Two  Martyrs  of  Verulam  fall  within  the  period  of  the" 
Roman  domination,  full  fifteen  hundred  years  ago.  The  fortunes  of 
an  Anglo-Saxon  Family  are  briefly  sketched  through  three  genera- 
tions. The  contests  of  the  Saxon  and  the  Norman,  and  their  different 
traits,  are  vividly  portrayed,  in  the  time  of  the  Crusades.  And  few 
tales  are  more  interesting  and  instructive  than  that  in  which  Cuthbert 
narrates  his  experience  in  the  Order  of  St.  Francis  and  his  illumina- 
tion by  the  "  Everlasting  Gospel  "  of  Joachim,  and  Cicely  relates 
how  Dr.  Wycliffe,  of  Oxford,  ministered  to  her  spiritual  needs  and 
insight. 

"  The  undeniabk  charm  of  these  sketches  consists  in  their  simple,  truthful  adhe- 
rence to  the  spirit  and  traits  of  these  olden  times.  The  author  has  been  a  diligent 
student  of  the  literature,  and  through  the  literature,  of  the  very  life  of  the  epochn. 
This  is  revealed  in  many  skilful  touches  of  art,  in  incidental  allusions,  apt  citations, 
and  graphic  descriptions  of  scenes  and  persons.  But  more  than  this  is  her  rare  gift 
of  tracing  the  workings  of  the  human  soul  in  its  needs  and  aspirations,  its  human 
iove,  its  divine  longings.  The  permanent  religious  wants,  which  remain  the  same 
ander  all  varieties  of  external  fortune,  are  so  truthfully  set  forth  that  the  Past  be- 
comes a  mirror  for  the  Present." — Dr.  Smith's  Introd-tctioii. 

"  The  various  facl:s  and  legends  of  Christianity  are  told  in  this  book  in  a  style  ol 
romantic  fascination.  It  is  an  unusually  entertaining  and  readable  work." — Ntw 
York  Evening-  Post. 

"  The  author  carries  us  back  into  the  midst  of  events  and  scenes,  wakes  up  the 
dead  a<5lors  and  makes  them  live  again,  and  we  see  not  the  history,  but  the  living 
men  that  made  the  history." — Evangelical  Repository. 

"  We  do  not  know  where  to  look  for  a  book  that  combines  such  beauty  of  style, 
•uch  charming  simplicity  and  variety  of  expression,  with  such  sweetness  of  spirit. 
It  is  full  of  beauty,  and  everywhere  pervaded  with  a  lovug,  catholic  spirit." — ffart* 
ford  Prtu. 


D 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogtte, 

Bw  the  Author  of  "The  Schonberg-Cotta  Fami  /." 
IARY  OF  MRS.  KITTY  TREVYLYAN.     A  STORY 

OF  THE  TIMES  OF  WHITEFIELD  AND  THE  WESLEYs^ 
By  the  author  of  the  Schonberg-Cotta  Family.  With  a 
Preface  by  the  author  for  our  edition.  I2mc  .  $i  50 

Fine  edition,  crown  8vo,  tinted  paper 2  oo 

Cabinet  edition,  i6mo,  tinted  paper I  50 

Sunday-school  edition,  i8mo,  illustrated     .          .     .     I  oo 

The  diary  begins  in  1745  and  gives  us  a  charming  pifture  of  rural 
life  and  simplicity  in  Cornwall.  At  the  date  the  story  opens  the 
"  mischievous  fanatics,"  Whitefield  and  Wesley,  begin  to  disturb  the 
parish  with  their  plain  preaching.  Kitty  very  soon  goes  up  to  Lon- 
don to  pay  a  visit  to  the  family  of  her  uncle,  who  is  a  dissenter,  and 
there  she  meets  those  reformers,  who  are  turning  the  kingdom  upside 
down  with  their  new  doctrines.  The  main  interest  of  the  book  i3 
religious,  yet  the  state  of  the  country  at  that  time,  the  habits  of  so- 
ciety, the  dangers  of  travelling,  and  the  faithful  pictures  of  the  dress 
and  manners  of  that  age  will  interest  all  who  are  not  attracted  by  the 
graver  matters  of  the  story. 

"  Notwithstanding  the  immense  popularity  of  the  Schonberg  Cotta  Chronicle,  we 
should  not  be  surprised  if  Mrs.  Kitty  Trevylyan  completely  rivals  them  in  popular 
favor.  All  the  good  qualities  that  gained  so  much  success  for  the  writer's  previous 
books  are  found  in  this,  while  the  subject  undoubtedly  offers  superior  advantages  to 
those  where  the  scene  is  laid  in  remote  times  or  in  a  foreign  land.  The  family  group 
in  the  old  homestead,  on  the  storm-vexed  shores  of  Cornwall,  becomes,  from  tho 
author's  skilful  painting,  and  fine  perception  of  character,  a  reality  from  henceforth  to 
her  readers  ;  and  when  the  heroine  leaves  it  to  gain  the  glimpses  of  the  great  wcrfd 
that  form  the  historical  portion  of  the  book,  she  carries  with  her  the  good  wishes  of 
all."— AT.  Y.  Times. 

"  The  beauty  of  the  'Diary'  is  its  homelike  simplicity,  its  delicate  portraits,  Jhd 
powerful,  because  so  perfectly  natural,  sketches  of  life  and  manners."— Hartford 
Post. 

"The  book  is  redolent  with  religious  feeling,  fresh,  pure,  and  sensible  ;  it  aboundb 
in  kind  but  keen  thrusts  at  the  follies  and  mistakes  of  conventional  piety ;  it  mishee 
aside  human  creeds  that  fetter  and  conceal  the  Bible's  plain,  clear  pages ;  and  it  is 
quite  remarkable  for  its  nice  detection  of  the  starting-points  of  error,  the  places  wher« 
divine  doctrines  have  been  spliced  with  human  ones." — Vermont  Record. 

"  We  think  this  decidedly  the  author's  best  work,  better  even  than  the  '  Cotta 
Family.'  It  sparkles  on  aln.ost  every  page  with  gems  of  thought,  while  tbe  rMratiw 
tt  one  of  absorbing  interest." — >£.  S.  Ttines. 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogue. 

By  the  Author  of  "The  Schonberg-Cotta  Family." 

WINIFRED    BERTRAM ;    AND    THE    WORLD    SHE 
LIVED  IN.     By   the   author   of  the    Schunberg-Cctta 

Family.     I  vol.  i2mo $i  75 

Fine  edition,  crown  Svo,  tinted  paper 2  50 

Cabinet  edition,  i6mo,  tinted  paper I  75 

Sunday-school  edition,  iSmo,  illustrated     ....       I  oo 

Unlike  the  author's  previous  works,  it  is  not  historical,  but  a  story 
of  modern  life,  with  its  scene  laid  in  the  heart  of  London.  Winifred 
is  a  bright  child,  who  very  early  in  a  naive  way  begins  to  be  blase, 
having  nothing  to  do  but  gratify  her  own  childish  desires.  The  lesson 
of  the  book  is  that  one  can  only  live  happily  and  profitably  by  sym- 
pathy with  others,  and  in  exertion  to  benefit  others.  The  characters 
arc  all  ordinary  and  natural  people,  and  the  plot  is  without  one  sen- 
sational incident,  but  the  author's  genius  for  irradiating  the  coninion, 
her  simple,  pure  spirit,  her  delicate  humor,  her  faculty  of  seizing  upon 
and  representing  character  with  fidelity,  and  the  lovely  spirit  of  mo- 
rality and  religion,  make  the  book  a  delightful  one.  The  whole  story 
is  suffused  with  vivacity  and  grace. 

"  George  Elliot,  whom  we  regard  as  the  i$reatest  female  novelist  of  the  age,  never 
exceeded  the  terseness  and  epigrammatic  force  of  expression  of  some  passages  in 

Winifred  Bertram The  allego/y  of  the  expanding  and  contracting 

chamber  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  things  in  modern  literature." — -Round  Table. 

"A  charming  and  quickening  story,  as  we  uiight  anticipate  from  the  author."—  • 
Congregationalist. 

"  Delightful  and  charming  are  not  properly  descriptive  of  it,  for  while  it  is  both,  w 
is  more  than  both  ;  it  is  of  the  kind  of  books  tliac  cnc  cannot  read  without  growing 
better." — Indianapolis  State  Jotirnal. 

"  It  differs  from  its  predecessors  in  that  it  is  a  story  of  our  own  time,  but  it  is  like 
them  in  its  felicitous  portraiture  of  character,  its  life-likeness  in  narrative  and  dia- 
loeue.  and  its  exquisite  illustrations  of  precious  gospel  tnr*h." — Christian  Timet. 

"  In  her  previous  works  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  some  part  of  their  suc- 
cess was  due  to  the  happy  choice  of  her  subjects,  or  to  the  quaintness  ar.d  novelty 
of  the  form  in  which  they  were  presented.  But  here  there  ij  no  gentle  illusion  of 
the  kind,  and  the  effect  is  to  place  her  clearly  foremost  among  thj  Hv-ng  writers  of 
religious  stories.  It  is  altogether  the  best  and  ablest  book  of  the  accomplished 
nuthor. " — Sunday-School  Times. 

"  A  succession  of  pictures  of  conversations,  scenes,  and  comments,  which  shuw  t 
mtndroful  measure  of  shrewd  common  sense  and  genuine  knowledge  ol  human  n^ 
nnrc."  -National  Baptist. 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogue. 

By  the  Author  of  "  The  Schonberg-Cotta  Family." 

*T*HE  DRAYTONS  AND  THE  DAVENANTS.  A 

-*•     Story  of  the  Civil  Wars.     By  the  author  of  the  Schoii- 

bcrg-Cotta  Family,     i  vol.  I2mo $i  75 

Cabinet  edition,  i6mo,  tinted  paper I  75 

Sunday-school  edition,  iSmo,  illustrated    ....       I  oo 

This  work,  the  opening  scene  of  which  is  in  New  England,  is  asso- 
ciated with  a  period  of  English  history  in  the  I7th  century,  involving 
political  and  religious  questions  in  which  Americans  are  deeply  in- 
terested. In  its  vivid  and  truthful  impersonations  of  character,  its 
great  historic  interest,  its  inimitable  pictures  of  domestic  life,  min- 
gled throughout  with  an  unaffected  tone  of  religious  sentiment,  the 
author  has  fully  equalled  in  this  volume  her  Cotta  Family,  which  has 
delighted  so  many  thousands. 

"  On  the  whole,  we  are  inclined  to  assign  to  this  a  higher  position  and  greater 
merit  than  to  any  of  Mrs.  Charles'  works."— Independent. 

"  If  this  work  had  preceded  in  its  publication  the  Schonberg-Cotta  Family,  we  are 
not  sure  that  it  would  not  have  rivalled  it  in  popular  favor." — New  York  Evangelist, 

"  The  quaint  antique  style  of  the  volume  gives  it  a  strong  flavor  of  those  eventftu 
times,  while  the  tact  and  fidelity  with  which  the  prominent  historical  circumstanc«s 
are  interwoven  with  the  fictitious  incidents  of  the  plot  impart  to  it  an  air  of  natural- 
ness hardly  inferior  to  that  of  a  cotemporary  chronicle.  With  a  curious  instinct  she 


in  Great  Britain,  and  proceeds  through  the  civil  wars  that  followed.  The  two  fami- 
lies whose  names  afford  a  title  to  the  volume  were  on  opposite  sides  of  the  great 
question  of  the  day,  and  the  story  is  well  wrought  out  in  the  well-known  style  of  the, 
author.  Since  the  Schiinberg-Cotta  Family,  Mrs.  Charles  has  written  no  book 
which  compares  so  favorably  with  the  former  as  this." — Methodist  Protestant. 

"  It  is  a  living  book,  full  of  tender  sympathies,  holy  thoughts,  and  devout  quick- 
eners,  yet  with  sharp,  clear-cut  delineations  of  character.  The  roistering  cavalier, 
the  Christian  reformer,  and,  more  than  all,  the  womanly  women  of  the  time,  gather 
around  us,  and  we  know  and  love  them." — Christian  Register. 

"To  tV,e  descendants  of  the  Puritans  and  those  who  respect  their  memory,  th-a 
admirable  volume  will  have  a  charm  which  even  sympathy  and  interest  rarely  g:.ve." 
— Neva  Haven  Palladium. 

"  All  through  the  story  there  is  evidence  of  that  earnestness  of  feeling  and  refine- 
ment of  thought  that  have  given  such  a  charm  to  this  lady's  writings,  and  have  touched 
the  popular  heart  so  effectively  while  instructing  and  elevating  the  reader's  lactw 
and  moral  &nd  religious  aspirations." — Roxbury  Journal. 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogue. 

By  the  Author  of  "  The  Schonberg-Cotta  Family.  " 

ON  BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  SEA.    A  STORY  OF  THE 
COMMONWEALTH  AND  RESTORATION.  Being  a  Sequel  to 
"  The  Draytons  and  the  Davenants."     By  the  author  ot 
The  Schonberg-Cotta  Family.     I  vol.  I2mo    .     .     .     $i  75 

Cabinet  edition I  75 

Sunday-school  edition,  iSmo  .     .         I  oo 

While  this  work  is  complete  in  itself,  yet  its  historical  value  and 
Interest  are  very  much  heightened  by  reading  it  in  connection  with  its 
companion  volume,  "  The  Draytons  and  the  Davenants,"  where  many 
of  the  leading  characters  are  first  placed  before  the  reader.  These 
two  families  are  in  this  volume,  as  in  the  preceding,  made  the  warp  of 
the  story,  into  which  is  woven  the  history  of  a  most  eventful  period. 
Opening  with  the  tragic  scenes  of  the  execution  of  Charles  I.,  we  have 
presented  in  the  highly  dramatic  style  of  the  author — the  establishment 
of  the  Commonwealth  under  Cromwell,  its  brilliant  career,  the  death 
of  the  Protector,  the  restoration  of  the  Monarchy,  and  the  forcible 
emigration  to  America  of  prominent  actors  in  its  previous  overthrow. 

"  The  house  life,  the  public  teaching,  the  political  relations  and  partisanships  of 
these  times  (1637  to  1691)  are  depicted  with  consummate  power  and  impressiveness 
in  this  volume  and  the  Draytons  and  the  Davenants,  to  which  it  is  a  sequel." — 
Brooklyn  Gazette. 

"  This  work  will  be  found  to  be  a  vivid  reproduction  of  the  scenes  of  those  stirring 
days,  which  more  than  any  other  in  profane  history  have  an  interest  for  ;<s,  and  which 
all  Americans  need  to  understand." — Christian  Advocate. 

"  The  scenes  of  the  period  to  which  this  volume  refers  are  deprived  with  consum- 
mate skill  and  rare  beauty,  and  with  such  perfeft  naturalness  that  the  reader  almost 
forgets  that  he  is  not  in  actual  contact  with  the  impressive  realities." — Albany 
Express. 

"It  has  all  the  varied  interests  and  the  peculiar  charm  which  attach  to  the  author'.? 
ideal  and  yet  historic  narratives  that  are  now  so  familiar  to  the  reading  world.  No 
writer  of  the  present  day  has  more  deservedly  won  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  all  who 
love  the  truth,  and  who  can  appreciate  that  which  is  pure  in  sentiment  and  in  domestic 
life." — New  York  Observer. 

"  It  blends  history  with  romance,  and  interweaves  most  charmingly  lessons  of  the 
richest  moral  instruction  and  the  deepest  experiences  of  the  Christian  life.'" — 
National  Baptist. 

" '  On  Both  Sides  of  the  Sea  '  has  certainly  a  charming  flavor  of  the  quaint;  spirit 
«>f  the  time  it  describes,  while  as  a  story  merely  it  is  of  exceeding  interest."—  New 
Y«*H  Mail. 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogue. 

By  the  Author  of  "  The  Schonberg-Cotla  Family." 

MARY,   THE   HANDMAID   OF    THE    LORD      By 
the  Author  of  the   Schonberg-Cotta  Family.      iSino, 
tinted  paper.     Cloth  extra,  red  edges $i  oo 

This  work  is  intensely  devotional  in  its  nature.  The  subject  is 
Mary,  the  Mother  of  the  Lord.  Out  of  her  life  history  the  author 
has  drawn  a  series  of  seven  essays,  all  of  which  are  pure  as  the  water 
of  life.  The  book  is  not  historic,  as  are  the  other  literary  produc- 
tions of  the  same  lady,  but  its  talent  is  none  the  Jsss  marked  than 
lhat  which  is  displayed  in  the  Schonberg-Cotta  Family.  This  fact  is 
enough  to  recommend  it  to  all  lovers  of  truth  and  piety. 

"  It  is  v.Titten  with  all  the  accomplished  author's  charm  of  style,  and  breathes  a 
devotion  and  fervor  which  cannot  fail  to  kindle  corresponding  emotions  in  the  hcait 
9i  the  reader." — Christian  Times. 

"  Novelty  of  incident  of  course  is  not  the  charm  of  this  beautiful  book.  It  is  the 
reverent  and  thoughtful  tone  of  mind  that  the  author  bungs  to  the  contemplation  of 
one  of  the  most  deeply  interesting  characters  of  holy  writ." — New  York  Times. 

POEMS.     By  the  author  of  the  Schonberg-Cotta  Family. 
Comprising  "  The  Women  of  the  Gospels,"  "  The  Three 
Wakings,"  etc.,  with  other  Poems  never  before  published. 
i  elegant  vol.,  l8mo.     Cloth   extra,  red  edges    .     .     $i  oo 

The  book  is  divided  into  three  parts ;  the  first  composed  of  a 
series  of  Poems  on  the  Women  of  the  Gospels  (Mary  the  Mother  of 
the  Lord,  Mary  Magdalene,  etc.)  ;  the  second  made  up  of  miscella- 
neous pieces ;  and  the  third  comprising  Hymns  and  Religious 
Poems. 

"  They  are  religious  in  character  and  earnest  in  expression,  and  will  prove  a  very 
acceptable  addition  to  our  devotional  books." — Congregationalist. 

"  The  same  clearness  of  expression,  delicacy  of  sentiment,  and  purity  of  English, 
which  mark  her  prose  works,  enrich  these  verses  also." — Southern  Presbyterian. 

"  We  have  not  found  in  this  collection  a  single  poem  which  is  not  marked  with 
some  striking  thought,  while  the  correctness  which  is  conspicuous  in  her  prose  com- 
positions equally  follows  her  through  the  mazes  of  her  somewhat  various  veree,"— 
S.  S.  Titties. 

"  Some  of  them  are  very  sweet,  evinciag  not  cnly  much  poetical  talent  but  grwL4 
devotional  feeling." — Ills.  Slate  ?<nirnitl.  ' 


Dodd  &  Mead's  Catalogue. 

By  the  Author  of  "The  Schonberg-Cotta  Family." 

X  T  7ATCHWORDS  FOR  THE  WARFARE  OF  LIFE. 

*  »      From  Dr.  MARTIN  LUTHER.  Translated  and  arranged 

by  the  Author   of  the    Schonberg-Cotta   Family.     i2mo. 

Elegantly  printed  on  tinted  paper.     Cloth.    Extra  bevelled 

boards,     . $i  75 

"An  appreciative  mind  has  explored  the  rich  storehouse  of 
Luther's  writing,  and  gathered  with  loving  hand  the  most  valuable 
gems,  and  has  so  arranged  them  that  each  cluster  reflects  some 
phase  or  event  of  his  actual  life."  These  selections  are  most  sug- 
gestively arranged  under  appropriate  headings.  The  Author  calls 
it  "  a  most  appropriate  pendant  to  the  Schonberg-Cotta  Family." 

"  We  have  learned  mere  of  Luther's  personal  history  from  the  ana  in  this 
volume  than  from  the  most  labored  biography." — Phila.  Press. 

"  We  cannot  help  thinking  that  this  is  the  most  valuable  of  the  works  of  the 
Author,  as  it  is  certainly  as  interesting  as  any.  It  gives  us  a  better  idea  than 
volumes  of  history  can  of  the  strength,  and  vigor,  and  originality  of  Luther's 
mind." — Young  M^n's  Quarterly. 

'  They  show  us  the  heart  of  the  great  Christian  warrior  in  the  midst  of  hia 
warfare.  Those  relating  to  the  death  of  his  little  daughter,  Magdalena,  are  won- 
derfully beautiful  and  touching." — 5".  .S".  Times. 

HTHE    SONG   WITHOUT  WORDS.      Leaves   from  a 
-*-    very  old  book,  dedicated  to  Children.     By  the  author  of 
the  Schonberg-Cotta  Family.     Beautifully  illustrated,  and 
exquisitely  printed  and  bound.    Square  i6mo.    .     .    $o  75 
"  A  truly  wonderful  little  allegory,  in  which  a  solitary  child  by  the 
«ea  hears  the  song  without  words  of  the  natural  objefts  around  him, 
which  are  described  in  the  most  charming  manner,  and  finally  dis- 
covers the  words  through  the  aid  of  his  sister,  wrecked  and  thrown 
ashore  near  his  lonely  sea-side  home." 

"  This  little  story  for  children  reads  like  a  tender  and  exquisite  poem.  It  is  at 
once  a  fairy  tale,  a  lesson  of  pure  religion,  and  a  charming  sea-idyl  in  prose."— In- 
dependent. 

"  This  is  a  sweet  Hide  allegory,  poetical  in  its  prose,  and  heavenly  in  its  leachirgs." 
'-Indianapolis  State  Journal. 

"  It  is  beautifully  printed  and  illustrated,  and  the  story,  which  is  written  in  th;it 
ihnpli  yet  elegant  style  which  in  former  works  has  gamed  the  auth>r  so  many  fll 
luirero,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  child  stories  we  have  ever  read.'  — Daily  It-  if 
conti*. 


